


The Desolation of Rick

by JenKristo, The-Clairvoyant-Rick (MajixTrixx)



Category: Rick and Morty
Genre: Dragon Rick can shift into a human, Fantasy AU, M/M, they aren't related
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-10-21
Updated: 2018-10-24
Packaged: 2019-01-20 12:11:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 49,904
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12432561
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JenKristo/pseuds/JenKristo, https://archiveofourown.org/users/MajixTrixx/pseuds/The-Clairvoyant-Rick
Summary: Morty is the bastard son of the King, in a kingdom where dragons are worshiped as gods. After a sixty-year disappearance, the dragon, Rick, returns. The kingdom celebrates by reviving the tradition of sacrificing a virgin of royal blood. Unfortunately for Morty, his father would rather offer up his bastard son to be ravaged and devoured than either of his legitimate heirs. Unbeknownst to the king, a bond will form between the dragon and his human that will challenge the very foundation of the kingdom.





	1. Chapter 1

Morty stared into the hazy, somewhat distorted reflection of his own terrified gaze, unable to look away as time continued on. The men and women bustling so faithfully around the room were draping him in the sort of riches he never would've even dreamed of before. They were adorning his arms and legs with thick gold bands -- the metal free of all intricacies and bound together with a gold chain -- and, in Morty's opinion, there was no more expensive way to showcase one's lack of freedom. A complex shawl of stones sat draped around his throat, an attention-grabbing piece if there ever was one, but even so, Morty couldn't look away from his own eyes.  

They were the reason he'd been chosen after all. 

The deep, multi-faceted emeralds that'd always helped him get out of trouble around the village, as well as the castle when he posed as a servant there, would now lead him to his grave. They gave him the appearance of nobility. Even the servants said so. It'd been the gossip of the town a few years ago, the quietly whispered question of whether or not he was a bastard son of the king. And maybe he was, maybe he wasn't, but that didn't matter now. Now, instead of offering him the opportunity a lifetime, his eyes would only lead him further down the road of damnation. 

"It's time, my child." 

The firm, unwavering voice could've only come from one person. The high priestess of their village. Morty turned to look at her. She was another form of royalty among them, her hair a striking and unusual sort of red, even for their village, with soul-searching hazel eyes that set her apart from the others. She was supposed to be an  _ Išrinktasis _ , a human chosen by the village that was entrusted the task of bartering between the humans and the winged sky gods of old, but Morty had a feeling that was incorrect. 

There was no bartering with the Old Ones. There was no speaking. There was only listening. Listening, accepting, and praying that the ancient creature wouldn't raze the village in a fit of anger should its demands not be met with absolute acceptance. 

Such was his fate. 

Morty turned away from the mirror, feeling his heart sink as someone slipped a cloak over his body, hiding the bands adorning his limbs that might as well have become a mark of slavery. It was supposed to be a means of preserving his modesty. Not that he had any. Not anymore. Not with what was about to happen. 

The cloaked brunet nodded and dutifully replied, "If you lead, I will follow,  _ Išrinktasis _ ." 

The priestess dipped her head and turned away from him, leading him from the lavish bowels of the castle and toward the castle's main foyer. He'd never gone that way before. He'd always snuck in and out via the servants quarters, and the knowledge that he'd be walking right out the front gate this time, like it was his birthright to do so, and into the claws of a  _ Dangaus Dievas _ \-- a  _ sky god _ \-- had Morty all but trembling. He was hiding it well, forcing himself to keep moving forward, acting like his fate was the honor the King and Queen had claimed that it was, but his insides felt like they'd started to liquefy. 

His muscles were quivering, his heart fluttering like the wings of a hummingbird, and Morty was afraid that he'd simply drop dead from fear any second. He had no control. He had nothing, nothing but a body covered in useless amounts of gold, and as they finally exited the fortress and started walking across the castle grounds, Morty felt his resolve start to crack. 

He had to do this. He had no choice. And if he did.. Well. If he went willingly, if he stuck by the lie, his family would be safe. They'd live a comfortable life, no longer scrounging for coins just to survive, and Morty couldn't think of a more noble reason to give up his life than that. 

Swallowing sharply, Morty straightened his spine and continued to walk, unaware of where they were going and completely unwilling to ask as the priestess led on.

* * *

Outside of the fortified castle gates, just over the moat, was a large outer courtyard. It was here that the common folk were permitted, the closest any of them would ever set foot to the castle itself. On one side stood the church, and on the other were the gallows.

The outer courtyard was also where the bustling marketplace was held during the harvest season. Today the villagers stood in masses inside of the courtyard. But there were no booths, no carts and tables, no vegetables and chickens in cages, no herbs or potions. Today the villagers were here to witness the Taking of the Virgin. 

The people stood around in small groups, whispering and watching the skies, as if the dragon would sweep down from the clouds at any moment. However, the gesture was impossible, as the dragon was already among them.

Rick stood with a cluster of members of the royal court and household. They had come down from the castle, as anxious as the villagers to behold the ceremony. He found them a suitable group to stand among, as their fine clothes would not make his own garb look out of place. A soft wind blew through, and Rick held down the hood of his pale blue cloak. He had to keep his tapered ears concealed, as elves and other non-human folk were rare in the region. He did not want to draw attention. Yet. 

A middle-aged woman with a massive dress and rigid posture sighed. “I hope they don’t dress the boy in those foolish freshwater pearls. Dragons would never go for that sort of plebeian rubbish. Why, I imagine we will all be up in flames if they choose to use any pearls at all.” Her adult children and handmaidens quickly nodded in agreement. 

Rick rolled his eyes, pulling out a silver flask and drinking from it. “I suppose y-y-you’re an expert on dragons, then, my lady?”

The group turned to him, noticing him for the first time. He stared back with a lazy gaze. 

“Why yes, I fancy myself quite a scholar on the matter,” the woman said. “I was only a child when the nest flew from the mountain all of those years ago. But I’ll never forget them, both frightening and elegant. And you know, I was in line as a sacrifice for a year, however the court decided I was simply too young to be offered.”

Rick nodded as if he were engrossed by her every word. “Ah. My lady, y-y-you would have made a most- the most lovely of offerings. I’m sure the dragons would have given you a good, long gander before cooking you alive.” 

The woman went white as a sheet, tongue tied from shock.

Rick raised his flask. “Cheers to all of you fine ladies and gentlefolk. May you all die naturally. Oh, and dragons like pearls just fine.”

Rick parted from the group before any of them could sputter out their indignation. He wandered through the crowd to a far less affluent looking group of people. The poor villagers dressed in threadbare linens and patchy scrap leather, holding their clothes to their bodies to keep off the chill in the air. Rick was unfazed, his core temperature was keeping him more than comfortable in the unseasonable weather.

A grimy looking man answered a question that Rick hadn’t heard. “We jus can’t afford ta move to the next kingdom,” he stated. “With me pregnant wife and our nine daughters, we wouldn’t have enough coins to even reach the border.”

Rick yawned loudly, glancing over his shoulder at the castle gates. Hadn’t anyone taught these peasants how to pull out? No, of course not. Priestesses forbade that kind of sensible thinking.

A peasant woman coughed, pulling her shawl closer. “I’ve prayed every night since the dragon returned, that he’d accept the sacrifice, what with the boy actually being from-”

“Oh for fuck’s sake,” Rick growled, having had just enough of the humans’ sob stories and pathetic prayers. If there was anything he hated, it was faith. “Where the fuck is the bloody sacrifice already?”

The villagers stared at him blankly. But his attention was pulled as the sound of a massive lock turning echoed through the courtyard. Rick turned, watching as the lever rose and the vast wooden doors swung open. A pair of guards held the doors in place as a parade of handmaidens and servants flooded out, stepping to the side to make way. Behind them came a tall, red-haired woman, and a smaller figure concealed in a white cloak. Rick knew the redhead to be a priestess, as the priestesses had appeared with the same red locks in all the generations he’d witnessed before the departure sixty years ago. 

He studied the figure in the white cloak. The virgin was small, cloak dragging on the ground behind him. Rick could see him trembling through everything he wore. Good. 

* * *

They were staring.  _ Everyone _ was staring, and Morty couldn't help but to fear that he'd accidently trip over the hem of his cloak and make a fool of himself.

Not that he didn't feel like a fool already. 

Misplaced embarrassment pooled in the pit of Morty's gut as he continued to walk behind the priestess across the cobblestone courtyard, trying to ignore the sea of pitying eyes that followed his every move while they made their way toward the King. It'd been one thing to stand in front of a mirror and reassure himself, to remind his panicked heart that he was doing the right thing and that his family would benefit from his brave decision to willingly do something he would've been forced into anyway, but it took a completely different sort of courage to walk through the courtyard and pretend to be royalty when every single person in attendance knew it was a sham. He felt like a laughingstock, like the entire village was right on the brink of openly snickering at his plight, but no one was laughing. No one was doing anything. They were all just waiting around, talking, gossiping, desperate to see either wing or glittering scale of the legendary sky god before it carried him off for good. 

Morty fists clenched at his side as he continued on, his gaze lifting only to connect with the identical eyes of his feigned father seconds later. 

His majesty looked relieved, probably grateful that it wasn't his heir walking up to meet him. The thought made the blood in Morty's veins boil. The dragon wanted royalty. He wasn't royal. As a child he'd worked in the fields until his fingers bled. He bathed in the river, went without food, wore clothes made almost entirely out of patches, and watched his parents nearly work themselves to death every single year to meet the demands of their kingdom and pay the taxes that allowed the man in front of him to wear the crown adorning his head. And yet, instead of sacrificing his own flesh and blood to the sky gods, a steep and grievance worthy payment for the plentiful life he led, the King was trying to dupe a dragon. He was taking the coward's way out, killing two birds with one stone by handing over the rumored-to-be bastard instead of his own son and Morty hated him for that. 

A small set of stairs led up to the lengthy stone slab just outside of the main entry way into the castle and, climbing up them to stand beside the King as his assumed son felt like the longest, most difficult footsteps of his life. But Morty did it. He did it without wavering because he knew what'd happen to his family and the rest of the village if he didn't. However, that didn't make it any easier to stand there and look out over the crowd, seeing the collection of faces that he'd grown up knowing his entire life. It was especially hard because he knew that, no matter how hard he searched, he'd never catch a glimpse of the faces he wanted to see most. His family was gone, hidden away lest the dragon see them and realize the truth. All that remained was the illusion at his side.

Green eyes dimmed, and Morty watched as the  _ Išrinktasis _ moved to address the crowd. 

"People of Thais," She said, her voice standing out among the mass of people even though she wasn't speaking very loud. "The dawn of a new age is on the horizon and the sun is rising. Many of you have heard that, after an absence of many years, the dragons have returned to our lands once more."

Chatter swept through the gathering, the priestess' confirmation sending a renewed spark of interest through the crowd before they fell silent once more as she continued to speak. 

"Upon their return to the Vienišas Mountain, they've demanded the blood of our kin."   
Whispers broke out at that claim, though how they would have expected any less Morty honestly didn't know, but the priestess seemed almost oblivious to it, continuing on as if nothing had been said. 

"For many years we've reaped the rewards our gods have bestowed upon us. We've lived in harmony, free from the tyranny in both the east and the north, our enemies held in place by their fear of the  _ dangaus dievai, _ and we've given nothing! For decades, their name has kept us safe and free from harm. The ghost of their presence has protected our kingdom from those that would have gladly burned our village and slaughtered our King and we've had to give nothing in return. In their absence our numbers have been allowed to flourish! And, upon their return, they ask, not for the many lives of our sons and daughters, but for a single splash of royal blood in its stead.

"They ask us for a single sacrifice in exchange for all we have gained and they shall be appeased! In exchange for a single life we shall be allowed to keep what we now have, to live free and without the fear of impending death looming over our kingdom with every passing cloud overhead. What say you, people of Thais?"

Morty could see her audience nodding along, crying out a unanimous call of agreement as she finished, and he felt his heart sink. Murmurs of agreement rippled through their numbers mere seconds later and, though Morty had no grounds to disagree with what was being said, he couldn't stop the flicker of anger that caught life and grew inside his shipwrecked heart. They were so quick to throw him away, so eager to offer him to the dragon and hope that it would be satisfied with just one.. Morty knew they couldn't have done anything else, they couldn't fight a god after all, but the ease in which they accepted their apparent turn of events still angered him a great deal. As did the calmness of those that stood among him. 

Or maybe he was just angry at the situation and that he was standing beside the King in a white robe and not down amongst the crowd as a spectator. Morty didn't know. 

The priestess gestured to him and, just as he'd been told to do beforehand, Morty moved to stand beside her. He remained a single step behind out of respect and bowed his head, letting the hood of his cloak obscure his face when he came to a stop. As the final portion of his expected duty so far, Morty clasped his hands in front of him and tried not to think about the jaws of the dragon or the fire that'd surely end his life in exchange for the continued freedom of his people.

Someone in the crowd began to slow clap. That someone, being Rick. Heads turned, and people moved out of the way as the cloaked figure stepped forward. He walked at an unrushed pace, continuing to slow clap until he was alone in the center of the courtyard. The villagers had moved aside, perhaps not wanting to be associated with such dangerous insolence. 

“I love it!” he said to the Priestess. “I bloody love it. All this about the dawn of a new age, how you’ve been reaping the benefits of neighboring with dragons? I love it. If only every dragon-owned kingdom was so grateful.”

The Priestess looked livid at the interruption, but she spoke evenly. “I take it you are not from Thais. Perhaps a traveler from the North?”

Rick knew that tone from half a dozen other Priestesses he’d met in the past. That was how they demanded answers. He looked around, pretending to be taken aback. “I’m devastated, Priestess! Y-Y-You don’t recognize me? Maybe if you see my eyes more closely-”

Rick took three steps forward, and three steps was too close. The two guards on either side of the royals stormed forward, intent on quickly blocking the stranger’s path. That was when the Priestess must have realized who he was.  

“No!” she screamed, “Don’t touch him! It’s the-”

But it was too late. The guards had closed in on Rick. What happened next was quicker than a flash. His cloak blew up as if by a gust of wind. The fabric contorted, stretching and splitting in half. He forced them outward, knocking the guards away like rag dolls. They flew through the air, one landing on the edge of the gallows, the other hitting the stone steps of the chapel. The first groaned pitifully, and the other laid still, blood leaking from his head. 

The outsider remained in the spot where he’d been attacked, massive blue wings raised above him. They stood up, rigid with his rage. It had been so long since anyone had dared to lay a hostile finger on him, that he could not shake off the humiliation and inconceivable disrespect. He turned and bellowed, a dragon-lunged roar that shook the castle window panes. The villagers screamed, some of them running and pushing one another out of the way. But they had nowhere to go, as the gates had been closed behind them. Rick’s body trembled, limbs and spine jerking and twisting as his full dragon form threatened to break out. 

“HOW DARE YOU! HOW DARE YOU ALL!” he bellowed, voice booming inhumanly. 

The new extensions stood up rigidly, trembling with his rage. 

Morty stared on in utter horror as the sky god was revealed, his heart thundering inside his chest, bashing itself against the backs of his ribs over and over as he watched the terrifying scene in front of him. In some ways it was beautiful, the breathtaking reveal of something inhuman and utterly magical not lost on his human mind, but the beauty of the moment was tainted and stained with blood. It was taken hostage by the screams of the villagers and the ear-ringing echo of the dragon's roar. 

For the first time, Morty looked to the face of his fate, even as most of it remained obscured by the hood, and the teen's heart nearly gave out. But whether that was from fear or awe had yet to be seen. The sky god's eyes were made of amber, glowing and bright like the brilliant rays of the sun through a sticky drop of petrified tree sap, but they were angry. The harshness of the being's glare was unyielding in its pride and it reminded Morty of those back breaking summers when the sun scorched the land and rain refused to fall. Thick, curling wisps of smoke poured from the deity's lips like the remnants of a fire carried upon the wind and suddenly Morty could imagine the beast from the tales of old.    
He could see the fear inspiring creature beneath the falsities of their fragile human flesh. He could see claws soaked with blood and earth, gnashing teeth, and the merciless flames of dragons fire. 

It couldn't happen! 

Breaking away from both the King and the priestess, Morty rushed down the stairs and dropped to his knees at the feet of the furious dragon, barely wincing when his knees met cobblestone. Morty didn't know what possessed him to do it but he couldn't simply do nothing. His life was already forfeit, whether by the god that towered above him or the unmerciful flames of its maw and Morty couldn't stand the idea of the village burning. Not when he was what the sky god wanted.    
Looking up from beneath the fan of his lashes, Morty reached up with trembling hands and lowered his hood, revealing the entirety of his face as he looked to his fate.

"My Lord," Morty addressed him, feeling awkward and uncertain about the proper titles a human was supposed to use when speaking to a god. "I beg your pardon."

Rick whirled around at the sound of a close voice. He looked down and found none other than the sacrifice, kneeling before him.  

While everyone was running and cowering behind one another, the sacrifice had thrown himself at Rick's feet. Rick thought to himself, as his anger began to subside, that only a naive innocent would think it possible to talk down a dragon. But it was curious, and he found himself wanting to know what the boy had to say.

Of course, it also didn't hurt that he was easy on the eyes. Blowing out the last of the rage-induced smoke from his lips, Rick listened.

The teen gulped, fear radiating off his body in thick waves as he said, "It's been many years since we've been in the presence of a being as proud and dignified as yourself. Please excuse the unfathomable rudeness of our kingdom."

Morty bowed, going as low as possible, and let his forehead touch the ground before kneeling once more and looking back up at the dragon.

Rick studied him for a moment. He was not at all what Rick had expected of a spoiled little Prince. He was not uncomfortable kneeling on the filthy cobblestone or pressing his forehead to the ground. With the dragons having been away for 60 years, none of the young royalty would have expected their lives to take this turn. They would not have been coached on how to be modest, or how to interact with a higher being. It was curious.

He reached out a hand, claws brushing through his short hair. He could feel him trembling. Rick turned his thumb, brushing it along the boy's forehead to wipe away the grime that had stuck from the ground.

Rick let his hand drop as he looked up. He glanced around at the cowering villagers and the remaining guards who didn't know what to do. He turned to the frightened Priestess and the Royal Family, fixing on the king with a burning gaze. And then Rick smiled as if nothing had ever been wrong. 

“What impeccable manners your son has. He's probably the- I imagine he's the only one around here who has any.” 

He watched with satisfaction as the king let out a heavy breath of relief before thanking him. Rick glanced down at the sacrifice. “You may rise and introduce yourself.”

Morty's throat clicked as he swallowed sharply and rose to stand on shaky legs. He found it explicitly difficult to look away from the rich, liquid gold of the sky god's eyes as the ghost of the creature's claws lingered against his scalp. That didn't last long though. Morty was terrified of appearing rude and being eaten on the spot so the teen ducked his head, forcing himself to avoid eye contact. It would've been the exact same if he'd been speaking to his majesty or the priestess and if he was below them then he was certainly below a dragon. 

Keeping his head raised and his eyes lowered, Morty trepidatiously replied, "My name is Mortimer.. Mortimer Anthony de Lioncourt."

The change to his last name still made Morty feel uncomfortable but he swallowed it down, ignoring the unpleasant sensation in his stomach. 

But, unable to also swallow the thought of the dragon constantly calling him  _ Mortimer _ , the teen also quietly said, "Everyone calls me Morty, my Lord."

The dragon laughed heartily. “Ah, so we're in agreement that Mortimer is a most unfortunate name.”

Momentarily forgetting that he was speaking to a superior and that he shouldn't allow his grasp on formality slip, Morty wrinkled his nose in distaste, wondering for the briefest second what could have possessed his parents to give him such a God awful name.    
  
"Unfortunate might be a bit of an understatement." 

Morty's eyes widened as he immediately realized his mistake and tacked a quick 'my Lord' onto the end of his statement.

Rick's smile was unwavering. He said, “I wonder, is there anything else unfortunate about you that's being hidden from me beneath that moronically oversized cloak?”

He took no pleasure in the sight of the boy’s smile falling, but he did enjoy the unsettled look on the priestess's face when he gave her a glance. 

“Maybe y-y-you're disfigured from a horse riding accident? Perhaps a birth defect?” Rick straightened up, taking a step back. “Go on. Drop the cloak so I can have a look at you.”

Color flooded Morty's cheeks at the humiliating implication and, acting on both instinct and disbelief, Morty looked to the priestess in question. Which was comically stupid. She wasn't in control, not against the demands of a god, and Morty's cheeks darkened another shade. 

"A-as you wish, my Lord." He whispered, trying not to let his fear overtake him.

Adrenaline slammed through Morty's veins as he reached for the clasp holding his cloak shut. It seemed like the easiest thing in the world, to simply unhook it and let the material fall to the ground, but, for a long, drawn out moment, all Morty could do was lay his fingers on the clasp. It felt like he couldn't move. Almost like he simply couldn't bring himself to expose his body, not just to the dragon but to the crowd as well, and Morty glanced up at the deity standing in front of him, making eye contact once more. 

He didn't know why he did it, not really, but he was vulnerable and afraid and the dragon had been kind to him, even if just for a moment. Despite the fact that he'd turned right around end acted decidedly  _ unkind  _ when he implied there was something wrong with him and ordered him to strip in front of the village. It made Morty wonder if dragons had such a thing as modesty. It also made him wonder, on the lighter side of things, if the dragon cared, even a little, or if he was completely cold-hearted. Had that momentary kindness been a fluke or was the dragon merely taking his revenge for the affront to his honor by the guards. He wondered if the creature knew that he was afraid -- afraid of getting killed and eaten, afraid of being mocked and laughed at, afraid of being seen in such a compromising position by so many people, people who knew the truth about him -- but Morty wasn't a coward and he had no choice. Regardless of whether the sky god felt anything for his struggle. 

Steeling himself, Morty released the metal closure and let the ivory material puddle around his feet. He held his head up high, forcibly swallowing down the desperate desire to run that was trying to claw its way back up his throat as he revealed tan skin brushed in shimmering powder.

Rick blinked. The boy was bare except for the silken cloth over his groin, and the hoard of jewels draped on his body. 

As Rick had other plans in mind for the sacrifice; he had not expected to feel anything but indifference to what he saw beneath the cloak. Ordering him to strip had been a power-play, to remind the kingdom that he could do anything he fancied, and they would cater to him. Even if it meant humiliating the king and his son.

But he couldn't help becoming genuinely distracted. The young prince was adorned with several pounds of gems and precious metals, and he was a dragon after all. 

But jewelry could only do so much for anyone. Perhaps the sunlight on the diamonds reflected glittering light on the prince’s skin. Perhaps the emeralds around his neck brought out the green in his eyes. But they hadn't made him what he was.

"Does this please you, my Lord?" Morty asked in a small voice, trying not to wonder what'd happen if the dragon said no.

The question broke Rick out of his reverie. He composed himself and said casually, “I suppose. Turn around and- and let me see all of you.”

He looked startled by the demand, but did not question it. He turned, glanced over his shoulder at Rick and then faced him once more. 

“Hm.” Rick took a step closer to him, glancing sideways at the king to make sure he was watching. He put his hand behind Morty's neck, claws pressing against his skin to discourage him from moving and waited.  
  
Morty squirmed a bit at first, his eyes widening when he was suddenly trapped within the grasp of an unyielding set of claws. Standing still and calm felt like it went against every single instinct in his body. It felt like he was taking on the role of a limp rabbit just hanging in the jaws of a hungry fox, not doing anything to escape, but Morty stood his ground. He forced himself to remain still, submitting to the dragon's will.  
  
Rick smirked at that and leaned in, crushing their mouths together in a savage kiss. The boy gasped almost immediately, stiff and startled by the gesture. Rick could feel his thin fingers grasping the fabric of his sleeves, not pulling or pushing him away, simply desperate for support.  
  
Rick slipped his tapered dragon tongue between the boy’s soft lips, eliciting the most delicious whimper.   
  
Every ounce of rational thought abandoned Morty's brain, fleeing like animals faced with a forest fire, and all Morty could do was respond.   
  
The sky god's mouth was _so hot._   
  
As that slick, fiery tongue swirled expertly around his own, the teen felt like he'd burn up any moment, like he'd simply combust and continue to burn until ashes were all that remained. And part of Morty didn't even care. He _couldn't_ care. There simply wasn't room enough for it in his brain. There was barely enough room in his mind to have enough thought to timidly kiss back, his tongue shyly following after the dragon's upon its momentary retreat.   
  
That is, until he heard a loud, scandalized collection of gasps coming from all around him.   
  
That minor sound was an immediate connection back to reality and Morty's eyes snapped back open in frightened alarm -- when had he closed them? -- as he instinctively pushed the dragon away and took a step back. Perhaps that was a mistake. Maybe he should've just let the _Dangaus Dievas_ do whatever it wanted to him, but Morty didn't know how to handle what had just happened. He didn't know how to handle the fact that the first kiss he'd ever _really_ enjoyed had been with a dragon or that he was practically naked and on display.   
  
Morty didn't know how to handle anything right now so he settled for staring at the dragon's chest as he quietly apologized for shoving the deity away, his cheeks flushed with embarrassment and uneasy bashfulness.

Rick exploded with laughter. He held his sides, unable to stop as he watched tears swell in the boy's eyes. He had taken just a little too long to push Rick away, and he was obviously mortified. 

He looked around as if to share the joke with others, to see who else was laughing, but of course he was met by nothing but solemn faces and down-turned heads.  _ Humans _ , right? Rick rolled his eyes and sighed, just about done with all of the doom and gloom that came along with visiting humans.

He turned to the Priestess. “I've decided he'll do.”

The Priestess began to speak. But Rick walked away and her words fizzled to silence. He walked to the center of the courtyard. The villagers pressed themselves closer to the perimeter, farther away from him. 

His wings closed around him, and from within burst a ten-ton dragon. The dragon’s body was pearly-white, adorned in blue around its crest and horns, as well as its lethal talons and swaying spade. Its pale blue wings expanded to their full form, casting massive shadows against the front of the castle. 

The dragon Rick released a mighty roar, enjoying the way the humans cried out and cowered. He turned around, showing himself off, and blew a gust of fire up into the air. Satisfied with the show, he approached the steps. 

The guards hurried toward the king and they began to escape into the castle. The handmaidens and servants scattered, the Priestess backing herself against the wall and sliding to the floor. In the end, only one human remained, the virgin sacrifice. He stood in the same spot he’d been before, most likely frozen in place. 

Emerald eyes like saucers, he looked up at the serpent. And in turn the dragon looked down at him. He was so much smaller now. The dragon reached forward, twelve-inch claws pointing upward as his hand rested at the boy’s feet. 

“Time to go, Morty,” the dragon said in a gravelly echo. “Step into my hand.”

TBC


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jen and I are back! 
> 
> The holidays and the weeks leading up to them have been rather crazy for us both but, with them out of the way, we're happy to bring you another chapter of this fabulous as hell fic! And boy do we have some awesome stuff in store for you in the coming chapters. We hope you enjoy! Happy belated holidays and a happy new year to all! 
> 
> xoxo,  
> Clair and Jen

An overly terrified Morty stared up at the massive dragon towering over him, his lips parted and his jaw lax.   
  
The people of their kingdom were right to be afraid, regardless of how awe-inspiring the dragon really was. Because that wasn't all the creature was. The sky god was dangerous, more so than anything he'd ever imagined, and despite the fact that there still wasn’t any love lost between Morty and his majesty, he now understood why the king had sought a replacement. Morty still thought the king was a coward for not using his own son but as he stared at the creature in front of him in all its horrific glory, Morty also realized and admitted to himself that non-compliance wasn't an option. Their village would do as the dragon commanded or they'd be wiped off the map in a fit of rage.    
  
There was obedience and there was death, nothing more.    
  
The teen gulped at that thought and decided that it'd probably be a good idea not to let the dragon wait any longer than necessary lest he bring about its wrath, accidental or otherwise. Morty quickly followed orders and scrambled up into the clawed hand, nearly falling as he tried to do so. The moment he made it up though, Morty was a bundle of anxiety-ridden nerves. He couldn't take his eyes off the dragon's wickedly curved claws, terrified that the creature would simply decide to gut him and get it over with, but as he finally sat down and tried to breathe, Morty found it hard to worry about much of anything.    
  
Despite being more than a little intimidating, sky god's scales were comfortable and warm beyond compare. They felt wonderful against his bare skin. So much so that, without really thinking about it, Morty slumped over with a tired sound and nestled into the dip in the dragon's palm, wiggling until the small of his back was pressed up against the thickest part of the scaled hand. 

The dragon looked down at him, curled up on his palm. Wow, he’d really given up, hadn’t he? Not that Rick didn’t approve of  _ complete _ submission. He closed his claws around the boy and leapt into the air, wings pumping. The castle grew smaller as he ascended.

He drifted over the royal grounds and then past the village, small wooden homes with straw roofs, and dirt roads between them. Surrounding the village were acres of farmland, where wheat swayed in the wind like an ocean of gold. 

They passed the woods, surrounding a lake where the dragon could momentarily see his reflection. In the past there had been more reflections flying overhead, but that time was over. 

He flew higher as they reached the mountain. Rick landed on a level strip of stone at the mouth of a cave and opened his palm. 

As the dragon offered him freedom, Morty glanced up at him in question, not immediately sure that he was actually allowed to leave. When the creature said nothing he cautiously climbed out of the deity's hand. Morty missed the warmth of his captor's scales almost immediately. The air surrounding them had a chill to it that he hadn't anticipated, but Morty said nothing. He had a feeling his comfort was of little consequence here. 

Aside from the cold, the air was thin and Morty felt light headed. He swayed a little and then steadied himself. Taking a few steps forward, he gasped as the full view from the mountain's peak came into view, his eyes wide and awe struck.   
  
"It's beautiful." Morty breathed, his heart hammering excitedly in his chest. "I've always wondered what it'd -- what it'd be like.. To stand here and see this. I never imagined that it might happen one day."   
  
For a brief second, Morty forgot who he was speaking to. He forgot that he was a prisoner and an offered sacrifice and that his life was most likely forfeit. He forgot that the creature behind him was dangerous and known to be bloodthirsty. He forgot all of that as he stared out upon the magnificent view in front of him, watching the rays of sunlight glinting off the lake's surface, feeling his heart quicken just a fraction more when the wind carried through the trees, making the leaves dance and the wheat sway.    
  
“Well then,” the dragon said, “I guess it’s your lucky day.” 

The boy turned, the momentary joy sucked out of him. 

Rick started to turn toward the cave, but stopped. “Ah. While we’re here, y-y-you might as well know that this cliff is as far as you’re allowed to go. Humans tend to need time under the sun in order to keep their sanity. There’s a narrow trail on the left, which leads to the base of the mountain. If you take a single step onto the trail, I’ll know, and I’ll finish you. Do you understand?”

A shiver of fear raced down Morty's spine before the brunet mentally drooped.    
  
Of course he wasn't allowed any further. There would be no herb collecting for him, nor would he be able to explore the mountain for worthless treasures of his own. At least not without the dragon accompanying him, which Morty doubted he'd do. The teen wanted to childishly promise that he wouldn't run off and beg to be allowed further out but, as he took in the firm set of the dragon's facial features and its unyielding body language, he knew that'd be pointless.    
  
Morty dipped his head, reverting back to a more formal approach as he once again realized that his freedom was no longer his own.    
  
"I understand, my Lord."

“Good.”

The dragon turned, leading him into the mouth of the cave. They walked through the tunnel until the light had faded, and then around a turn into full darkness. 

A flame illuminated the space, one that Rick had cast from his nostrils. It burned steadily out of his nose as he moved to the left, pressing his snout into what seemed to be a narrow pool set into the stone, running off into the darkness. 

Morty watched with obvious intrigue as the mysterious liquid suddenly blazed to life when the dragon's snout made contact, the flames following a long, thin channel before spidering out in a network of veins all along the walls of the unfathomably massive cave they'd stepped into. Fire not bound by anything as simple as a wic danced upon the oil's surface, sending a vast array of ever changing shadows across the walls and the stone floors. It illuminated the room, drawing attention to the scatter of stalagmites rising up out of the floor as though they'd always been there and the unnaturally smooth stone walls that eventually turned jagged and rough the higher they went. But what really had Morty's attention was all the  _ gold _ .   
  
He'd never seen such riches, not even in the king's treasure room when they fitted him with the jeweled shawl before the sky god's arrival, and Morty could barely believe his eyes. Coins, jewels, trinkets, and all sorts of other objects towered up towards the heavens in colossal piles, dragging the teen's attention up to the breathtaking collection of stalactites adoring the cave's naturally carved ceiling. Small pathways weaved between the ever-reaching sea of treasure, the floor still scattered with loose coins and the occasional gem or two, lined with all sorts of interesting objects. Even from where he was standing, Morty could see entire suits of armor and jewel encrusted swords buried in gold. He could see shields and chests mounded with treasure and no small assortment of crowns. He could see statues made of precious metals and strings of pearls and a whole host of items that he had no name for and, even still, Morty couldn't believe his eyes.    
  
He'd never known things like this were real, not in his wildest dreams, and Morty couldn't believe that he was standing among items of such value. Even if he was still a prisoner.    
  
"I never knew treasure like this existed." Morty said to the dragon as he continued to stare, his eyes wide. "I didn't even know there was this much gold in the entire world."

“Ah, how little you know of the world,” the dragon sighed. “Anyway, this is my collection. If you-” The dragon burped, flames licking up the sides of its snout. “If you steal any of it, I’ll kill you. If you touch any of it, I’ll kill you. If I catch you staring at it too long, I’ll consider killing you.”

Affronted by the dragon's implication and entirely too hot-headed to think things through the way he should, Morty spun on heel and glared at the dragon with a fire that matched the offense burning just under his skin.    
  
"I'd  _ never _ steal from you." He insisted angrily, his hands clenched into fists at his side. "I've never stolen anything in my life! Not money or clothing or even food! Not even when I --"  _ Not even when I felt like I was dying of starvation. _   
  
“When you what?” the dragon laughed, “When Daddy sent you to bed without dinner?”

The desire to defend his innocence died on Morty's tongue at the dragon's rebuttal. He knew he couldn't say it, not if he wanted to live, not if he wanted his  _ family _ to live. Princes didn't starve or deal with hunger and he counted himself lucky that he'd managed to stop himself from giving the secret away. Not that it really mattered. Morty had a feeling that, regardless of who he was or what he said, the dragon would have very little reason to believe him. He was a human, after all, and humans were liars. The fact that he was in the cave with the sky god at all was proof of that.    
  
Morty turned back away from the creature's smug expression, taking comfort in the fact that the dragon's jab meant nothing to him since it was so far off the mark, and looked out among the sea of gold, his heart feeling heavier than ever.    
  
"You don't have to worry." He said calmly, his tone detached and empty of all the fire that'd colored it before. "I don't want anything that I haven't earned. Or that isn't given to me. I have no need to steal."   
  
Glancing over at the dragon, eying up the powerful, utterly inhuman looking creature beside him, Morty indignantly added, "I'm also not stupid. Maybe you think I am, and I guess I'm not always smart, but I'm not dumb enough to steal from a dragon. Your kind are gods to my people and sacrilege is ugly. I'd never disrespect a dragon like that."

The dragon's golden eyes narrowed. “Say that again and listen to the tone of your voice.” He took a step closer, towering over the boy, claws clicking against the stone as he approached. The kid was being a little shit, and he was lucky that Rick needed him.   
  
Morty's brows knit together in momentary confusion, a small wrinkle appearing above the bridge of his nose, but he did as he was told. He replayed the moment in his head, thinking about his tone and the words he'd spoken, only to look up at the sky god, his eyes wide with alarm. It was with an even heavier heart that Morty realized that, by talking back, he was already disrespecting the deity. The offense of a misplaced tongue was less so than stealing from a dragon's hoard, he knew that, but Morty still managed to feel somewhat ashamed. He wasn't here to defend himself or to make the dragon like him. He was there to serve and to, most likely, be the meal. So Morty doubted very much that he'd have much of a chance to ogle the dragon's gold to the point where he got killed over it. He'd probably already be dead.    
  
Bowing his head in immediate submission, Morty looked down at the stone floors and quietly said, “That  _ was _ disrespectful, wasn't it? I'm sorry, my Lord. I never -- I mean,  _ I've  _ never.."

Morty was at a loss. He didn't know how to tell the sky god that he had no idea how to act around royalty, or even how to speak to them. His time around the nobles had been few and far in-between. Even when he worked in the castle he made a point to avoid the royal family. But Morty didn't know how to say any of that. He couldn't. 

Instead he said, “I'll try not to let it happen again, my Lord.”

“I hope so, for your own sake.” The dragon turned, continuing on. “Walk.”

"Yes, Master." Morty said awkwardly, keeping his eyes somewhat lowered as he followed the dragon's pointed claw and started walking along one of the paths through the ocean of gold. He was still a little dizzy, but he did what he could to stay balanced.    
  
It was hard not to gawk and reach out to touch things, even harder still not to ask an entire slew of questions about the cave and the items it contained, but Morty refrained. The dragon seemed grumpy enough at him as it was and Morty didn't want to make it worse. An angry dragon wasn't something the teen wanted to face. It was bad enough that the castle guards already disrespected him.    
  
However, as they moved further into the cavern, Morty noticed something else. The cave didn't just house piles of gold and valuables. It also contained a  _ castle _ . Though the stone structure nestled into the back of the cavern wasn't as big or intimidating as the castle in the village, it was far grander. It sat on a stout ledge protruding from the cave wall. A smooth set of steps just beyond the last of the treasure led up to the entrance but Morty was almost positive that the stretching span of rock clinging to the cave walls between the castle and the entrance of the cavern led to the entrance as well.    
  
Morty couldn't believe his eyes.    
  
It stood like a great tortoise, solid and simple in its features. The square face was rounded by a pair of turrets that loomed tall at each corner. An arched barbican sat centerfold, pressed tightly between two towers, a little entrance visible among the impenetrable square stones. And the closer they came, the more clearly Morty could see a fierce pair of dragon statues guarding the entrance, their claws, eyes, and teeth all made out of gold.   
  
"What is this place?" Morty breathed.

“This is my home,” the dragon said, as if it should have been obvious. He looked up at it, tilting his scaly head. “Castle Flame has been- it’s been in my family for two generations, which is quite a few more generations by a human’s standard. We had the most renowned architect flown in from Paris. Top-notch builders and decorators were-” 

A crash cut the dragon off mid-sentence. Annoyed, he turned around to find Morty collapsed on the ground. A gem-encrusted suit of armor was knocked over, as though the boy had tried to use it to steady himself and had failed. He sat on the floor, bleary-eyed as coins rolled every which way. 

Rick closed in on him, massive muzzle only inches from Morty. “What in bloody hell- what’s wrong with you?”

"I-I don't know." Morty stuttered, reaching up to press the heel of his palm against his left eye. "I just feel really -- really dizzy and off balance all of a sudden. My ears keep popping and everything sounds like it's underwater."

The dragon sighed. “Ah. The mountain sickness, of course. Sometimes humans are made ill by the-” the dragon turned his head away as he burped out a gust of fire, “-by the air up this high. The fit will pass, but in the meantime…”

The dragon’s wings spread and wrapped around him, warping into something like fabric as he shrank. In a moment the pale blue fabric fell to the sides, revealing the cloaked man who had first approached the castle.  

Rick stepped forward and picked Morty up as if he weighed nothing. The boy watched him with eyes like saucers as he carried him up the steps and into the castle. Rick ignored him.

As he pushed his way through the front doors, the entrance hall echoed with Rick’s footsteps. He turned his head to the side, effortlessly blowing a breath of fire to ignite a torch. He snapped his fingers, and one by one, the torches mounted around the room began to light. Intricate chandeliers above them glittered to life. The dragon’s fire spread, illuminating the vast space. Symmetrical pillars and an arched ceiling framed a grand staircase toward the rear. If the dragons had wanted, they could have held grand balls in such a room. 

“I’d intended on putting you to work right away,” Rick said as he crossed the room, “But that’ll have to wait. I don’t want you -- I-I can’t have you making mistakes because you don’t have your head on straight.” 

Rick ascended the stairs. When he reached the top, he blew a small flame to ignite another torch. As had happened on the ground floor, wall-mounted torches began to blink to life on either side, lighting up the two hallways. Rick took the left hall, walking down the carpeted hallway and past endless closed doors. 

As the sky god carried him through the castle, Morty found himself more overwhelmed than ever.    
  
Part of it was simply caused by the mountain sickness, whatever that was, and the vast, mind-boggling beauty that was Castle Flame. The place was unlike anything he'd ever seen. The atmosphere around them was rich, the stones and everything surrounding them bathed in the warm, gold light of the dragon's fire combined with its magic, and though Morty was no expert on taste or anything even remotely expensive, even he could tell that the inside of the mansion was filled with just as many treasures as the cave.    
  
However, what was really screwing with the teen was the way the dragon was treating him. The creature was arrogant and more than a little rude, especially toward humans, but he didn't seem all bad. The problem for Morty was that he kept switching back and forth and, while he was cold far more often than he was warm, at least so far, the change was still there.    
  
The teen could still feel the creature wiping grime off his forehead back at the castle. He could hear the humor in its tone when they both agreed that his name was unfortunate. He could feel the sky god's scales against his back as the dragon kept him safe as they flew across the kingdom. And now... Now he was being carried through the deity's castle, cradled carefully in the arms of a god. The dragon was being kind to him, unnecessarily kind, and it warmed Morty's heart. Even though it probably shouldn't have.    
  
"Thank you for not leaving me behind." Morty said, his tone sincere and legitimately grateful. 

Rick didn’t look at him as he spoke. “Well I didn’t fly across the kingdom to leave you-- just to leave you a few yards from the door.”    
  
Trying to prove that the gesture wasn't misplaced and that he was worth the effort, Morty quickly asked, "What sort of work do you have for me? I'm pretty short so I'm not very great when it comes to dusting and stuff like that but I'm pretty good at everything else."   
  
The teen internally winced. Prince's probably weren't supposed to be good at cleaning. At least that he knew of. Morty doubted Prince Bradley had ever done a day's work in his entire life, but Morty went with it. The mistake was already made and he couldn't very well take it back now. He could only hope that the dragon wasn't as clever or perceptive as the legends always said.

Rick’s brow rose. “A prince who’s good at chores? I suppose they trained you for this. Bizarre, but sensible.”

He opened the door to one of the guest bedrooms. The walls were lined with wide tapestries of countrysides and men on horses, galloping after a grinning unicorn. Thick velvet drapes hung from the four poster canopy bed, beside which Rick set Morty on his feet. 

“It’s easier to show you what I need rather than try to explain it. Anyway, this is your room. I suppose you can use any of the guest rooms, but this one connects to mine.”

He moved to one of the tapestries, pulling it aside to reveal a narrow passageway with a spiral staircase leading upward. 

Green eyes gazed up the stairs with undisguised curiosity. He wondered what the dragon's sleeping quarters looked like. He'd never really thought about gods doing simple, day-to-day things like sleeping or eating or bathing but, now that he was at the bottom of a staircase that led directly up to the dragon's sleeping quarters, Morty found himself drawn to the secrets that lay within. More so than he was for answers on what he'd be expected to do around the castle. He didn't dare invade though, regardless of his curiosity.    
  
Choosing to play it safe, Morty made his way to the bed on shaky legs and sat on the edge, feeling a visible amount of relief course through him when he finally got off his unbalanced feet. It felt good to sit. His head was still a mess and Morty didn't envy himself the task of trying to work through the discomfort, but the fact that he didn't have to focus on standing at the current moment felt pretty damn good.    
  
Morty's eyes started to feel heavy as the seconds ticked by and it quickly became a challenge to keep them open. Even the threat of disrespect was barely enough to keep Morty awake and somewhat alert.    
  
"My lord?" Morty asked after an undisclosed amount of time, "May I rest for a moment, please?"

The dragon rolled his eyes and huffed. “I didn't carry you to your quarters so you could scrub the floor. Shut your eyes and come find me whenever you're rested. Just follow the torches.” 

The boy started to thank him, but Rick couldn't be bothered with any more formalities. He left the room halfway through Morty’s sentence, shutting the door behind him. 

Morty breathed a small sigh of relief.    
  
He was finally alone. Nobody was watching him. He didn't have to kneel or watch his tongue or pretend to be anything he wasn't. He was finally allowed to just breathe, to linger in his own thoughts and be himself. The relief of that freedom, a freedom he'd taken for granted so often in the past, was enough to steal the rest of Morty’s energy. Like he'd done in the dragon's palm, Morty slumped over and let his eyes fall shut.    
  
He was barely on the bed, his entire body right up against the edge, but Morty couldn't remember the last time he'd been so comfortable.    
  
It was for that reason that sleep enveloped the teen almost immediately, stealing his thoughts and leaving him blissfully alone in the sea of his own unconscious mind as he drifted off without a care. 

* * *

Rick was hungry. He was tempted to waive it off and return to work in his study, but a dragon’s hunger was not something to be ignored. So he made his way out of the castle and to the mouth of the cave. He walked into the sunlight, eyes adjusting in a blink. He walked across the cliff and let himself fall off the edge. As he fell, the cloak wrapped around him and he transformed, wings blowing open. The dragon’s descent slowed and he began to level himself, coasting mere feet from the rocky face of the mountain. 

The flight took him over the woods and to a wheat field, where a herd of red deer were crossing through. They caught sight of him and scattered, leaping every which way and darting into the woods.  The dragon passed them, sights set on another, more appealing scent he’d picked up. 

He crossed the woods and tilted his wings, slowing. Golden eyes narrowed as they looked through the trees to the forest floor, and caught sight of shiny black coats. Movement. He let himself drop, diving, claws outstretched as the lower half of the dragon plunged into the trees. Claws pierced flesh. The prey squealed for a moment before its neck was broken. A few beats of the dragon’s wings had it suspended again. He carried the eighteen-hundred pound boar to a clearing by the lake, where he set it down and went about the simple process of skinning and gutting it with his claws, and roasting the pig with his fiery breath. 

The light was fading by the time the dragon had finished his meal. He stepped into the lake, clawing at the submerged rocks and sand until the blood and gore had washed out from beneath his scales. Clean and satiated, he lifted off. 

Rick was halfway up the mountain when he remembered the boy. He’d be hungry too, and Rick knew he wouldn’t be able to get much done if the kid had dinner on his mind instead of the task at hand. So he veered left, swooping down again to pick something up for the human.

* * *

After what could have been minutes or hours, Morty opened his eyes with a yawn and sat up. It took the teen a long second to remember where he was but, when he did, he relaxed.    
  
Maybe that was weird. Maybe he should've been panicked, wondering about what sort of horrors he'd be facing now that he was back to normal and at the dragon's mercy but, more than anything, Morty felt restless. Despite being in the cave under false pretenses, Morty still felt honored. He was serving a god.  _ His _ god. He was now living in the presence of a deity that knew and practiced magic. He was trusted, at least somewhat, not to steal or try to harm. Not that Morty thought he could actually hurt the sky god one way or another, but it was all terribly exciting. Scary, but exciting.    
  
Smiling wide and eager, Morty hopped up abandoned his bed in favor of finding his Master.    
It wasn't hard to follow the torches.    
  
Light spilled out across the stone corridors like the sun over the horizon. The light felt more natural than it should've, like there were invisible windows embedded in the walls, and Morty wondered how much of it had to do with magic. The shadows dancing across the floor ruined the mental image, but Morty could still imagine it. He could still imagine the dragon's flame being stolen from the sun itself, locked away inside the beast's mighty jaws and used to brighten its fortress. It reminded Morty of the old stories from the village, the ones the elders told young, eager children about how the Earth once had two suns before the dragon king swallowed one of them as a means to power, introducing the world to night for the very first time as a result of its greed.    
  
At times it was hard to follow the given trail. The mansion was bigger than he'd initially realized, aspects of it branching off into darkness and intrigue, and Morty was hard pressed to go exploring. The temptation was certainly there but the brunet refrained. Perhaps if he served well enough he'd be granted more freedoms. Or maybe the castle would remain a mystery.    
  
Morty didn't know but, he supposed, he didn't need to know. It was for the sky god to decide.   
  
At the far end of the reaching hallway, Morty could see a brightly illuminated room and the teen assumed that was where his pleasantly unpleasant host would be. However, as Morty stepped foot into what he immediately recognized as a lavish dining room, he choked and nearly stumbled back.    
  
Cloudy, unblinking eyes met Morty's startled green ones from the unnecessarily long table. And though Morty had nothing to fear, he couldn't break eye contact with the massive deer adorning the dining table. The thing felt like it was staring at him, like its creepy, dead eyes were watching him no matter where he went. That feeling only got worse when Morty took a few steps forward and examined it more closely. As he approached his place setting, he immediately noticed that the animal was already cooked, its fur singed off, flesh darkened by the heat.

Rick entered the dining hall from a door on the opposite end, carrying with him a pitcher of mead, a goblet, and a book under his arm. 

The prince was standing behind his chair, staring wide-eyed at the massive roasted deer. Rick thought it was rather impressive, and had fancied himself artistic for leaving the head and antlers in-tact. 

Rick dragged his chair out from the far end to sit beside the boy, preferring to be able to see him if he felt like saying anything. It would have been impossible with the roast between them. He poured himself a drink and opened his book, only then glancing at the speechless little human. 

“Well? Eat up.” 

“Yes, my Lord.” Morty said as he continued to stare at the deer a moment longer, mentally building himself up.    
  
He could do this. It was no different than when he caught smaller game in the wild, like eating a de-scaled fish or a roasted rabbit. The dragon was just testing him, trying to get a rise out of him through shock value alone, and Morty refused to back down from the challenge.    
  
Clenching his jaw with steeled resolve, Morty grabbed both his plate and the knife beside it before approaching the deer. Being out of its eyesight was better, less intimidating somehow. Morty relaxed a fraction as he sliced off a portion of the catch and returned to his place at the table. He cut off a small piece and popped it into his mouth like it was nothing, only to sigh happily at the delicious flavor.

Rick drank and glanced up from his book, distracted by the sound of the human’s enthusiastic eating. 

Humans tended to prefer salt and spices in their meals, especially royalty who had been raised with it. And yet, the prince was clearly enjoying the simple, smoked roast. Dragons were far more interested in the natural flavor of cooked prey than anything with added ingredients. Although Rick hadn't intended to please the prince as much as simply sustain him, it was good to see his catch appreciated. 

He watched the boy slice off another piece, the golden chain clinking between his wrists. He pierced the meat with his fork and closed his lips around it, smiling as he chewed. Cute.

“You'll sleep in my bed tonight,” Rick said, deciding it as he spoke. He finished his drink and returned to reading. 

Not having expected it at all, the moment the dragon's words registered in Morty's mind he immediately inhaled partially chewed meat and started to choke.    
  
For a second Morty honestly wasn't sure what he was more panicked by, the idea of choking to death or sharing the dragon's bed. Both were equally terrifying ideas but, even after clearing his windpipe and catching his breath, Morty still wasn't sure if he'd gotten the short end of the stick or not.    
  
"Why?" He blurted without thinking, looking at Rick with wide eyes. "Why would you want me to? There's nothing I could possibly --"    
  
Morty fell into silence as his position in Rick's world started to click into place one piece at a time. He wasn't just a sacrifice. He was a  _ virgin _ sacrifice. Untouched by humans. He hadn't been eaten yet. The dragon gave him a room close to its own for easy access. The dragon had already made its intentions known by kissing him, he'd just been too naive to understand.    
  
Or maybe he should've said stupid. Too stupid to understand.    
  
Morty stared down at his plate, feeling his stomach twist with fear, discomfort, and a small, purposefully unacknowledged sense of aroused curiosity. 

Rick opened his mouth to speak, to answer his question, but the human spoke again before he could.   
  
"If -- If that's what you want, my Lord." Morty said quietly, forcing himself to acquiesce to the dragon's demand.

“Yes,” Rick said, deciding that if the boy no longer needed an explanation, then he was happy not to give it. He refilled his goblet and returned to his book. 

His stomach twisted into so many knots that Morty was honestly afraid he might become ill. Unsurprisingly, the teen found himself unable to eat. All he could do was stare at his plate and try not to think about what was in store for him once they retired to bed, let alone however long the dragon kept him alive. It should've been an honor, to be the body that'd please his god, but all Morty could feel was fear.    
  
Picking up his fork, the brunet tried to bring it to his lips, ignoring the quiver in his own hand and the way his lips trembled as they parted, but Morty couldn't bring himself to do it. Not even for the sake of respect. He'd vomit if he ate.    
  
Setting his fork right back down, Morty looked to his captor and said, "You mentioned earlier that you had work for me. I'm ready if you wish for me to get started."

Sighing, Rick looked up from his book. “Not tonight. I'm tired.” 

Maybe it was a mixture of having flown to the kingdom to pick up the prince and catching his meal, but mostly it was needing time to digest. Dragons were like any other reptile in their tendency to lazily lie around after eating. 

“In fact,” he continued as he stood up from his seat, “I'm about ready to retire. The kitchen is just through the door over there. Wash your dishes and join me when you're finished.” 

Rick sauntered out of the room, heading for his quarters.

Heart in his throat and unsure of anything he could possibly do to protest, Morty nodded in understanding and collected his plate and silverware, immediately taking them to the kitchen. His actions were mechanical as he cleaned up after himself. Morty was unable to appreciate the well-designed room though, or the expensive dishes, or really any of it. All he could think about was what was coming. And even though he took his time, washing and drying and putting his things away, the process was over far too quickly.   
  
Morty was slow to catch up to Rick. His footsteps were measured, each one directly in the center of a square stone, every stair between himself and Rick appreciated, but that didn't stop him from eventually reaching Rick's quarters. Eventually he reached the top of the staircase beyond his own room, a chill gliding over his naked flesh and making him tremble as he stepped further inside, feeling bare and afraid and so incredibly lost as he looked to Rick for directions.

Rick's bedroom was vast, the ceilings high and vaulted. On one side was a massive fireplace, but the roaring fire wasn't enough to warm the room. Not in the brief time since Rick had lit it. Mostly it was for illumination.

He lay in the center of his large bed, which was free of any kind of canopy. That was, of course, so that his wings wouldn't be cramped if he chose to release them. 

“I'm just about finished with this chapter,” he said, holding the book above him. He glanced over at the prince, who stood shivering in the rear passage. “Well? Come to bed before you freeze. Oh, and remove the jewelry.”

Despite feeling more nervous than a rabbit being chased by a group of hounds, Morty couldn't help but to admire the dragon in front of him. He couldn't deny that the sky god was beautiful. Not only was he unique, ethereal with tapered ears more akin to an elf than anything even remotely human, and aquamarine colored hair, the likes of which Morty had never seen before, but he was comfortable in his own skin. The dragon was relaxed in his environment, composed and yet somehow casual as he lounged on the bed, reading his book and waiting for Morty to join him.    
  
The teen couldn't have found better at the village. Even the prince and the princess didn't hold a candle to the dragon's otherworldly beauty, nor could they compete with his riches or the power he held.. But Morty was still scared.    
  
Swallowing down all the fear he could manage, Morty slowly started to take off the jewels that'd adorned his body, trying his absolute best not to damage them. In truth he was more worried about the shawl getting tangled than anything but, after getting it off in one piece, he breathed a sigh of relief. The bands were a bit more difficult, the metal clinging tightly to his skin, leaving compressed marks in their wake, but eventually he got those off too, laying everything in a nice pile to be gathered by the dragon later.    
  
Morty glanced over toward the bed and gulped.    
  
Now all that remained was.. Whatever the dragon had planned for him.    
  
The teen trembled as he approached the dragon, the muscles in his core tight, and he slipped into the bed beside the sky god, settling in under the warm covers with a small shiver. Though, whether that was due to the temperature change or his anxiety, Morty didn't know.    
  
"Are you gonna take my virginity? Is that why you told me to sleep here?" The brunet asked in a soft voice, momentarily forgetting formality as he tried to keep his heart out of his throat, nervous green eyes trained on the well crafted material of the blanket as he toyed with it between his fingers.

Startled, Rick dropped the book on his own face. He pushed it aside, glancing at the boy. Rick watched him fidget for a moment, and turned on his side to face him.  

“Are you expecting me to force you?” Rick watched the boy's brows draw together, watched his fingers trembling. “Hm. Yes, of course that's what you would expect.”

He didn't have to say it. After all, that was Rick's whole cover story. And he'd made his intentions known in front of the royal family, making him strip and such. What a foolish decision, ordering the prince into his bed. 

“No, I had no intention of stealing your virtue when I ordered you here.” He waved his arm as he explained, eyes drifting above them. ‘I'm above that deplorable, desperate kind of behavior.” The prince glanced at him and he took the opportunity to smile darkly. “If I'm going to fuck someone, they're going to have to beg for it first.”

Color exploded across Morty's face, painting his cheeks scarlet in big, bold strokes, his eyes going wide with surprise at the deity's obscene bluntness as well as his ability to use the word ‘fuck’ with such casualness. The relief that flooded his system at the dragon's assurance that force wouldn't be used was pleasing enough in its own right, calming Morty down almost immediately. But the warm sensation of building trust had nothing on the startling amount of lust the dragon's mental picture conjured up in Morty's mind.    
  
A quick flash of himself laid out under the sky god's body flooded Morty's mind, creating a vivid mental image of himself begging and pleading for the creature above. What, exactly, he'd he begging for, Morty didn't know. Sex wasn't something he knew much about. But he could sort of guess, and the mental image of the dragon doing more than just kissing him had Morty looking back down at the safety of the blanket and away from the dragon's face.    
  
"Why though? Why did you tell me to sleep here with you?" Morty asked, feeling nervous but also surprisingly bold. "I don't.. I don't  _ mind _ . I mean, I guess what I do or don't mind doesn't really matter in most cases, but I just.. I dunno. I want to understand, I guess."   
  
Morty glanced back up toward the dragon, meeting the liquid gold eyes that'd entranced him from the moment they met.

The dragon's eyes had, in fact, dulled as he endured the onslaught of mundane questions.

“I'm afraid you'll just have to dwell on it,” he said, his generosity having run out. He reached for the boy's shoulder, turning him on his side and pulling him close. Through the thin nightgown, the human’s back was like ice against his chest. But that would be remedied soon. 

A near violent shiver raced up Morty's spine at the temperature difference between them but, to his own surprise, he relaxed into it. Morty hadn't expected to be touched, at least not like this, and while the dragon could've easily been lulling him into a false sense of security, Morty didn't think that was it.    
  
The being felt like someone worthy of his trust, maybe someone that was lonely, even if they didn't say that. And Morty wanted to trust him. So he did.   
  
Comfortable silence brewed between them for a couple minutes before, without much warning, Morty nestled back into the dragon's warmth a little closer and whispered, "Thank you for not hurting me." 

“Ugh, no more talking,” Rick scoffed. “Just go to sleep.”

The boy obeyed, at least he did in regards to the talking. And eventually Rick could hear his breathing even out. But as tired as he had been before, Rick was kept awake by the prince’s last words. 

His kind did not imagine themselves as anything but terrors to humankind. Feared, revered, sometimes worshipped. It was the way things were and always had been. But it was not often that he found himself feeling anything but indifference to their fear. 

Never before had Rick found himself imagining what a human's day had been like. This must have been the most terrifying, devastating day of the boy's life. The pain of it was more than Rick could manage, and so he pushed it out of his mind. 

TBC

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> P.S.   
> Before you go, I want to thank you all for your incredibly encouraging feedback on Chapter 1. Sometimes the splendor of it leaves me tongue-tied, and I'm sure Clair feels the same. Together we gush over the things you say, and it warms our hearts as we continue through the story's creation. Thank you again!  
> Sincerely,   
> Jen & Clair


	3. Chapter 3

Rick woke to the feeling of limbs around him. He opened his eyes and glanced down. At some point the prince had rolled over and now lay curled up against him, face pressed against Rick's neck with an arm  _ and _ leg slung around him. 

Rick shifted. In turn the boy stirred, but it only caused him to curl up closer and hold Rick more tightly around the waist. 

Lazily, Rick slid his fingers up and down the boy's bare back, running along his vertebrae and pausing at the base of his spine. He could feel scar tissue in one or two places, perhaps signs of heavy training or abuse from the King. Although Morty didn't give off the kind of vibe that would indicate strenuous training. Perhaps an accident. He could imagine the wide-eyed Prince chasing a cloud and tripping off the edge of a cliff. He did seem the type. 

The boy made a little, comfortable noise as he shifted. Rick pulled back slowly, studying his relaxed features. 

Morty, who was oblivious to being watched, didn't know whether he was awake or still dreaming.    
  
He was wrapped up in unimaginable warmth, cloaked in the sort of blind safety he'd never understood until that very moment as he slept on a cloud of comfort. And somebody was touching him. The touch was light, casual in a way that didn't make sense as it trailed up and down his spine, and, when there was a momentary pause, Morty could do nothing but make a sound of displeasure and snuggle closer to the enigmatic source.    
  
In the back of his mind, Morty knew that he was with his god. He didn't know if what was happening was real or not, but he knew that the dragon, the one who held the power of the sun in its jaws and the pit of its belly, was the one holding him. Touching him. Making him feel safe when he should've felt anything but. 

Nobody else could've been so naturally cozy.    
  
" _ Dangaus Dievas _ ." Morty breathed. 

His tone was laced with the sort of awe that probably would've embarrassed him if he'd been more aware but, since he wasn't, Morty just nuzzled his face closer to the warmth and sighed contently when he found it.

The dragon took a breath, willing himself to behave. But how could anyone in his position? ‘ _ Remember the plan, remember the plan _ ,’ he thought to himself. Unfortunately the plan did not include any type of ravaging.

The prince’s bare leg was thrown over his hip.  He may have done it in his sleep but Rick decided that was still license enough for him to touch a little. After all, the leg was wrapped around  _ him _ . So his fingers trailed from the base of his spine, over his hip and slowly down the smooth skin of his thigh. He held him behind the knee, thumb circling a small, raised scar. 

The teen squirmed a bit when the traveling warmth found a knot of excessively tender scar tissue hiding behind his knee. A small whimper of mild discomfort escaped Morty's lips and, with it, he began to steadily slip away from the easygoing relaxation of his own mind.    
  
Sleep hazy eyes slowly blinked open and, when Morty came face-to-face with the dragon's bare flesh, his cheek nestled into the well sculpted lines of the deity's collarbone, all but tucked into the other's neck, he froze. He should've expected that. In some sense he must've expected it, but somehow he was still surprised. His dreams were so rarely tangled up into reality and Morty could hardly imagine a more extravagant and desirable dream than this. For a moment Morty could almost imagine that the dragon cared for him. The touches were so gentle, like he was actually worth something, like he wasn't just a convenient villager that'd served as a scapegoat for the King to breathe easy once more.    
  
Morty's heart clenched with hurt and carefully buried desire. Before he could stop himself, the teen tilted his head up just the slightest bit and nuzzled his nose carefully against the dragon's neck, saying nothing. 

At this point Rick had utterly failed in his attempt to keep from being aroused. He shifted himself so that his erection wouldn't brush against the boy and frighten him. 

“Good morning,” he said as he felt the other nuzzle against his neck. He kept his hand on Morty's leg, unabashed.

A faint blush colored Morty's cheeks as he extracted himself from the safety of the dragon's neck, his heart racing as he looked up at the older man and quietly said, "To you as well."

“You're an excessively clingy sleeper. I wonder, how do you get by when forced to sleep alone? Do you bestow this attention on an oversized pillow?” 

His hand moved from behind Morty's knee and up his leg again, gently squeezing his upper thigh. 

Green eyes went comically wide and Morty let out a startled squeak when the dragon grabbed his thigh, his stomach clenching as an entirely unforeseen jolt of arousal shot through his system. In seconds Morty was scrambling off the bed, untangling himself from the other man's body and acting far more like a panicked rabbit than any sort of prince. He tried to remind himself that, not only was he a peasant and the other a dragon, but the dragon in question had mocked him and threatened to kill him multiple times the day before. 

Though that did very little to quell the butterflies trapped inside his belly.    
  
"N-no! No, of course not!" He replied, finally answering the deity's question and nearly tripping over his own words in the process.    
  
The teen stood beside the bed and bowed at the waist before standing tall, cheeks pink and his gaze restless as he looked anywhere other than at the man on the bed.    
  
"I-I've never slept with anyone before. I didn't know I'd be so.."  _ Cuddly. Needy. Desperate for even the slightest show of compassion. _ "clingy. I didn't mean to latch onto you." He finished lamely.

“Mm hmm,” Rick murmured, examining his fingernails. “I suppose it would be hard to resist me.” 

Rick threw off the blankets and stood up, passing Morty on his way to an oak armoire. He took out a robe and wrapped it over his night clothes. Glancing at Morty, who stood in nothing but the meager cloth he'd worn on his arrival, the dragon frowned. Rick was cold just looking at him. 

“You'll find clothes in your room. They should fit you well enough until something better is found.” 

Morty stood there a moment longer, not having realized that he'd been dismissed, but the realization caught up to him soon enough and he nodded in agreement, dashing down the steps toward his own room a moment later.    
  
The wardrobe wasn't hard to find, at least when he was looking for it, but Morty was a bit taken aback when he actually opened it and caught sight of what was inside. The clothes were ancient. At least they seemed that way. They looked like the sort of thing that'd be used for balls and formal events of the highest degree and Morty felt uncomfortable at the prospect of wearing them. Everything was covered in lace and velvet and far too many buttons. There were frock coats and heavy material britches and so many laced up dresses that Morty didn't even know where to start.    
  
In the end, the teen ended up dressing himself in the least attention-grabbing thing he could find. He slipped into a white shirt and a blue button down coat made out of velvet, with a pair of heavy, dark wool trousers. The getup was uncomfortable in more than a few aspects but, at the current moment, Morty was grateful to be alive and covered by more than just his bare skin.    
  
Smiling at his own optimism, Morty sat on the edge of his bed and waited for the Lord of the castle, unwilling to try and traverse the pitch black castle without a guide.

Meanwhile, Rick dressed himself for comfort. For him, comfort meant a pair of soft, leather pants and tall boots. It meant a thin white shirt with billowing sleeves, and a tight, fitted vest over top. He buttoned the double buttons and headed down the rear stairway to the prince’s quarters.

There he found him sitting on his bed, his  _ unused _ bed, waiting. Rick liked the choice of velvet, finding it suited the boy well enough. Of course, he didn’t say so.

“Hm,” he murmured. “They’re a little long on you. Alright, come along.”

“Y-Yes My Lord,” he answered.

They walked down the hall, the darkness illuminating as one torch lighted itself after the next. Rick lead him down a few halls, through the large, front room, and down a winding staircase to the lower levels. 

Rick pulled out his flask as they went, taking a long drink without pause. He opened a wooden door, leading to a basement that was like a small cave in itself. Their footsteps echoed as they entered, and the torches lit to showcase something of an apothecary’s study. Bottles of colorful liquid lined dozens of glass cabinets, and hundreds of books filled endless shelves. Shadows danced behind animal skeletons, posed as if they were in life. Great crystals glowed inside glass domes, and dried herbs turned slowly from where they hung from the ceiling.

“This is where I work,” Rick said simply. He went to a crowded table and pushed the mess of tools to the side. In the cleared area he spread out a large, rolled piece of paper with a drawing. Feeling the boy’s presence over his shoulder, he said, “Do you recognize this?”

Morty looked down at the thin, nearly translucent sheet of paper in front of him with curious eyes, taking it in and trying to understand what he was seeing before his heart dropped into the pit of his stomach like a stone.    
  
"This is a map of the castle." He said quietly, feeling his heart heavy, belly twisting into uncomfortable knots.

Rick smiled up at him, but not necessarily in a friendly way. “This is where your work begins. You're going to finish this map for me. Take a seat.” 

Discomfort radiated through every aspect of Morty's being as Rick smiled at him and his heart shot straight up from his belly into his throat. The organ was actively trying to become a hummingbird, hammering away inside the teen's esophagus like a pair of wings as he pulled up a chair and sat down, staring at the paper in front of him like it had a death sentence written out across the page.

And in a way it did.    
  
While it was true that he'd worked in  _ parts  _ of the castle as a temporary servant, namely the kitchen and the more common areas where the help were allowed, Morty didn't really know much about the rest of the place. Even during the height of his curiosity he'd never snuck past the court herbalist's office on the third floor and that wasn't anywhere close to any of the good stuff. He'd been fitted for jewels in the treasure room but it was a pretty stressful affair and he hadn't been paying attention to the journey on account of his rampaging fear of being eaten by a dragon. He certainly wouldn't be able to draw it. Not from memory. 

This was it.    
  
The dragon was going to kill him. He was undoubtedly about to find out Morty was a fraud and the result couldn't possibly be anything less than death for lying about being royal. And then he'd raze the entire village in a fit of anger and it'd be all his fault.    
  
Beads of sweat broke out across Morty's forehead and he felt the distinct urge to scratch the back of his neck or rub his arm or  _ something _ , but he refrained through sheer force of will.    
  
"I'm not a very good artist." Morty replied lamely as he picked up a nearby quill, cursing his dry mouth and the underlying distress he could hear in his own voice.

Rick looked at him steadily. “I’m not planning to hang this on the wall. I need accuracy, not artistry. You can draw a rough sketch and I’ll give you another sheet to trace the final draft.”

Morty continued to stare down at the half-page for another second longer before dipping the tip of his quill in rich, black ink and letting it hover over the parchment.    
  
But he couldn't bring himself to do it.    
  
Not only was Morty scared for himself but he was scared for the villagers. Not the royal family, but the good men and women who worked within the castle's walls and the people who farmed the crops and kept the kingdom running smoothly. He was worried for his family and the people who may as well have been his family. He was a single human, one that held the weight of an entire village on his shoulders. Their lives were spared through his silence, through the kept nature of his secret, and the teen could barely comprehend how he was supposed to keep them all safe when he couldn't possibly draw out the entirety of a castle he should've lived in his entire life.    
  
Frightened green eyes darkened and Morty watched as a single drop of ink dripped from the quill, staining the paper with the teen's hesitancy to comply.   
  
The dragon said he needed him. Morty wondered how far that need went.    
  
"What do you want it for?" He asked boldly, his brain screaming profanities at him for risking his neck in such a manner. But Morty didn't stop, choosing instead to look dauntlessly up into the face of his captor. "What could you possibly want from the inside of the castle that you don't already have?"   
  
Unanticipated anger clouded the teen's gaze and, before he could summon an ounce of self preservation, he was letting it speak for him. 

"You're a god!" He snapped. "You could have anything you want!"

Rick gaped at him. He spoke evenly, but his tone was hard. “I don't have to explain myself to a pathetic, little, human sacrifice. Your kingdom  _ gave _ you to me, and now I own you. You are my property. You exist for my entertainment, my pleasure, and my use. I want you for this map, and if you don't obey me and prove your usefulness, I'll be forced to eat you and return to the kingdom for one of your siblings. So tell me, how many princes and princesses will it take to draw this fucking picture?”

The dragon's warning was clear: obey or suffer the grisly consequences. His word was absolute. There was no room for misconception or disobedience, and while that should've terrified the teen, while he should've been trembling in his seat, willing to do anything to survive, Morty felt nothing but indignation and a bubbling sense of anger that was rapidly spiraling out of his control.    
  
The teen shoved his chair back and stood up, letting the quill drop from his fingers as he met the dragon head on.    
  
"Then eat me! Go ahead and eat me! Good luck with Prince Bradley. He's a coward and a tool! And the princess isn't any better! You'd probably end up eating them just for some damn peace and quiet before they got three steps into this place!"

The dragon growled, grabbing Morty’s upper arms and yanking him closer. He squeezed bruisingly hard, containing himself only enough not to break the boy's bones. He could see the pain and anger in his face, but felt nothing. The boy was doing it to himself through his disobedience.

“You brainless, little thorn in my ass, objecting for a cause you don't even understand.” He laughed. “And I see there's no love lost between you and your siblings, then?” 

Morty squirmed against the deity's hold, whimpering in pain as the creature's bruising grip sent pain radiating up his arms.    
  
But the dragon's words only made him angrier.   
  
"Don't call them that!" Morty yelled back defiantly, struggling harder than ever. "They're not my siblings and they never will be!" 

Pure confusion was the only reason Rick's grip on his arms relaxed. And in that second, the boy pulled free, dashing out of his reach.

Adrenaline burned through Morty's body like fire as he ran, consuming everything in its path and making him feel like his heart might explode any second, but he didn't stop. The teen raced through the partially illuminated castle as fast as his legs would carry him, his eyes wide with fear as he desperately tried to remember the way. It wasn't hard to follow the torches. That was the easiest part. But when Morty realized that'd lead him right back to the dragon's bedroom he promptly switched gears.    
  
Dashing down the first path he actually remembered, Morty forced himself away from the light and towards the mouth of the cave.    
  
He kept bumping into things, running into walls and the occasional pillar, but by some miracle he found the entrance of Castle Flame and dashed through it. The frightened boy ran through the sea of gold, not seeing any of it as he had the day before, and when he finally broke free from the mouth of the cave, his body suddenly bathed in sunlight, he gasped for breath. The sun was high in the sky, shining down over the kingdom and the surrounding wildlife and the breathtaking sight brought Morty to an unexpected halt.    
  
He was out of places to run.    
  
He could've easily fled down the mountain side.. But where would he go? The Vienišas Mountain belonged to the dragons. The creature chasing him surely knew its trails better than Morty could ever dream. And even if he succeeded, even if his luck held out long enough for him to escape back to the village, where would he go? Sheltering him would mean certain death to whoever took the risk. Maybe even for the entire village. There was nowhere he could run that the dragon wouldn't find him, nowhere he could go where he'd be free from the punishment that'd surely follow his disobedience.    
  
Fear wracked Morty's frame but, rather than being swallowed by it, he allowed the sensation to fill him completely.    
  
While he couldn't exactly think of a worse way to go since being either roasted or eaten alive by a dragon was about as bad as it could get, there were worse places he could've been. At least the view from the cave was beautiful. At least he got to see the sun and the water and the bend and sway of the trees while the wind blew through them. At least he wasn't standing among the village, watching it burn to the ground.    
  
And maybe the dragon would go after his so called "siblings." Maybe he'd go back for one of the other royal children and the King would realize that, even with all his manipulations and his clever planning, he'd still be forced to give up one of his own. 

The spiteful thought shouldn't have given him as much pleasure as it did.    
  
Walking forward, Morty peered over the cliff's edge. It'd be easy to jump. He could end it all and escape the horrible death that was coming for him, but he didn't. Whether that was because he was a coward or because he simply couldn't stomach the thought of exiting his life in such a dishonorable fashion, Morty didn't know.    
  
But he didn't question it.    
  
Instead, he sat down on the edge and let his legs dangle over the side, staring out at the unimaginable beauty so few before him had ever laid eyes on. He waited for the dragon to inevitably find him.

Meanwhile Rick raced around the castle, chasing the fresh scent of human. He was alight with fury, his growing claws scraping gouges in the stone walls as he raced around corners. His skin buzzed with the desire to shift into dragon form, to bust through the side of the castle in search of the boy. But he couldn't do that, not to his family's ancestral home.

So he ran through the castle and then through the cavern, jaw tight with anger. What outrageous disobedience! No wonder the royal family had thrown him out! What a little shit, what a little bastard-

And then Rick stopped short. 

The boy was a bastard. Things started to click into place, all of the odd ends coming together and arranging into an unexpected picture. A prince with sun-tanned skin, with scars on his body, a prince who hadn't been taught how to properly hold his fork or how to draw. This prince didn't recognize the other heirs as his true blood. 

The king had pawned off his bastard son to the dragon. Rick had been played. He should have been livid, but he'd already been so angry there was nothing left to add to the fire. 

He calmly walked the rest of the way, following the scent to the mouth of the cave. There he found the boy sitting on the ledge, looking out at the late morning sun. He didn't turn around to look at Rick, although Rick didn't hide his presence. He stepped closer and the boy's shoulders tensed, but still he didn't turn.

Rick looked out at the landscape, hands resting on his hips. 

“You don't even live in the castle, do you?”

The dragon's voice was calm and Morty couldn't tell if that was a good thing or a bad thing. He idly wondered if it was possible to be so furious that you sounded serene.    
  
"No."

Rick sighed, moving to sit beside Morty on the edge. “Well, fuck me. No wonder you wouldn't draw the map. Y-Y-You don't know what it looks like in there, do you?”

Morty's stomach twisted anxiously as the dragon took a seat next to him but he didn't show it. The sky god seemed calm enough, despite obviously knowing that he'd been tricked, and though he had ample reason to be afraid, Morty found himself calming as well. The teen stared down at his own kicking feet.    
  
"I know what  _ some _ of it looks like." He admitted. Morty swallowed nervously and glanced over toward the dragon, wondering if his luck would hold out and save him once more. "I've worked there before. As a servant. I was usually in the kitchen or the lower levels of the castle where guests can be but.."    
  
The teen paused. His gaze darted up to meet the warm, melted gold of the dragon's eyes only to have his secrets come spilling out. "Sometimes I'd get curious and sneak around. I've been as far as the court herbalist’s office on the third floor. And sometimes into the gardens. But no farther." 

“The herbalist’s office, huh?” Rick tried to act casual. But the herbalist’s office was exactly where he wanted to go. Well, one of the places. “And what about, I don't know... the library?”

Morty frowned, somewhat displeased with the answer he'd have to give.    
  
"I know about one of them. Amelia, one of the other servants, dusts in the main library somewhere on the third floor but I've never been there. There's another one though. She's not supposed to talk about it but, in the Familial Wing, there's a study full of books that only the King is allowed to read."

“Hmm,” Rick murmured. “What I'm looking for wouldn't necessarily be something the king would want to keep private, or even give much thought to. It would likely be in the main library.”

Rick knew who would be accessing this content. Royal herbalists and apothecaries. Healers. The people who were on hand if the princess had a cough or if the prince fell off his mount. Or if the king was having trouble moving his bowels. But he couldn't say this to Morty. No human had any business knowing.

He smirked when a thought came to him. “You were certainly hell-bent on avoiding the map, especially for someone who could have drawn a good deal of it. And the way you said I could have anything… you thought I was planning on something like thievery, didn't you? Or maybe something more heinous?” 

The teen's cheeks darkened a shade at the dragon's accuracy.    
  
"Maybe." He conceded. "To be honest, I was a lot more concerned about what'd happen when I couldn't finish the map and you found out that I'm a bastard and not a prince." Morty swallowed. It hurt to say that. It hurt to  _ confess  _ that. Somehow, without the fake title backing him up, he felt even less worthy of the dragon's notice. Quietly, Morty asked, "What are you going to do with me?" 

Rick wanted to say something terrible to tease him, but the kid already looked like he was at the end of his rope. He didn't want to say the wrong thing and watch the boy throw himself over the edge. 

“I'm going to make you draw what you can of the map. And you should know, I've already told you more than I wanted to. The less you ask about my business, the better. For you.”

Morty nodded in understanding, suddenly grateful that he hadn't asked the dragon what he was actually looking for in the castle.    
  
"I'll try not to ask." Morty said honestly. "But you should know that I'm really curious and I tend to just.. ask without thinking. It's a flaw. I really will try though."

Rick rolled his eyes. “What a handful you are. None of the past sacrifices were nearly this undisciplined.” 

Morty barked out a laugh, even though the joke was sort of at his own expense. He wasn't the least bit offended. "I'll take your word for it, my Lord."

“Mm, I hope so,” Rick said, standing. “And in regards to your future after finishing the map, you’ll remain here, unharmed. As long as you follow my rules.” The boy looked like he wanted to say something, but Rick cut him off. “Now go draw what you can of the map. When you’re finished, I’ll have a meal prepared for you.”

Morty replied that he would, respectfully bowing before returning into the cave. Rick leapt off the cliff’s edge, ready to hunt.

* * *

Sitting under the glow of the dragon's fire, hard at work, Morty continued to sketch out a rough copy of the castle. Rather than drawing on the parchment the dragon already started, Morty decided to start with a rough copy. He wanted to save the good paper for the final product, when there were less errors and he became more accustomed to working with a quill and good quality ink. 

  
Which ended up being a fairly decent call if Morty did say so himself.    
  
The paper he was working on now was riddled with corrections. It had entire portions scratched out alongside arrows pointing out misplacements and where the rooms actually went. His hands were starting to cramp, fingers stained with ink to the point where Morty legitimately wondered if they'd ever come clean, but he he kept going.    
  
The teen had no idea how long the dragon wanted him to work. In truth, it didn't really matter. Morty was grateful just to be alive and well so he wasn't complaining. He hadn't missed the gouged out claw marks in the stone on his way back to the basement. They were fairly obvious and, to Morty, they were a testament to just how pissed off the deity had been. 

And how little sense it made that he was still alive. 

But he was, so the brunet didn't waste it. He just kept working, determined to do everything that was expected of him and more.

“You're not finished yet?” Rick said from behind him, startling the boy. He responded with a mildly annoyed glare, as he hadn't even tried to be stealthy. It wasn't his fault if Morty was lost in concentration. He examined the work, pushing through the papers and studying them. 

“Not bad. I want you to label the rooms once you've finished drawing them.” Morty seemed nervous at that. When he was ready to speak, Rick cut him off. “Finish this later. Go to the kitchen for a plate and cutlery and bring it to the mouth of the cave.” With that, Rick turned and left. 

Morty stared after the dragon for a long moment with a huff.    
  
The creature was a lot more dramatic than the brunet originally assumed he'd be, and he had an affinity for cutting the teen off before he could speak, but Morty didn't mind. Not really. At least he was interesting.    
  
Morty smiled as he set down his things, capping the inkwell and setting his papers side to dry before leaving the basement. The walk back toward the dining room felt longer now that he wasn't running for his life. Or maybe it was because he didn't have company. Morty didn't know, but when he arrived he was quick to rinse his hands in a small pool of water inside the kitchen.    
  
His skin was still somewhat dark but most of the ink was gone. That was a plus at least, and Morty counted it as a win as he grabbed a plate and cutlery, as instructed, and made his way out past the entrance of the cave.

The midday sun left the flat, cliffside stone warm to the touch. The massive dragon settled down, tail curled to one side. Wings stretched out to catch more sun, his tail lifting and dropping as a result of his good mood. He didn’t even know what he had to be glad over. His sacrifice had turned out not to have exactly what he needed. Life was the same as it had been yesterday, and the day before. And yet, here he was, feeling… not bloody awful. He was rather pleased with the fish he had spotted under the surface of the lake, which now laid on the stone beside him, cooked and ready to be eaten.

He heard the soft sound of footsteps echoing from inside the cave, and turned his neck to look. Soon enough the small human appeared, looking up at him with those wide, doe eyes. 

“Come eat,” the dragon said, mouth pulling into a toothy grin. 

Morty gaped at the massive, freshly cooked fish laid out next to his dragon master. In comparison to the sky god it really wasn't all that big but, as Morty approached and started comparing the thing to his own body size, all he could do was stare in wonder. It was the biggest fish he'd ever seen. Two, three hundred pounds. At least. The tell-tale whiskers along its darkened face screamed catfish, but Morty could barely believe it. He'd never seen a catfish so large.    
  
Like it was meant for the sole purpose of feeding a dragon.    
  
"This is amazing!" Morty exclaimed in wonder, taking a few quick steps forward so he could crouch down and examine the catch, his stomach rumbling loudly as he inhaled the delicious scent. "No wonder our people worship you. This is the biggest fish I've ever seen!"

A deep laugh rumbled out of the dragon, its head tilting back. “Yes, humans have worshipped us for our fishing skills for thousands of years. You’re absolutely right. Now eat it before it goes cold.”

He watched with amusement as the boy knelt, taking up his knife and pressing it into the fish’s side. Yes, Rick did feel good today, despite the mishap from only a few hours ago. His tail thumped on the ground. The boy was charming in his natural form, no royal upbringing necessary. 

The teen made a frustrated sound when his knife refused to pierce the fish's scales. Despite being crispy from the dragon's fire, they were still tough, persistently guarding the treasure trove of delicious meat below, and no matter how he went about it, the knife just wouldn't cut through.    
  
Another less intentional sound of frustration escaped the brunet's lips as he kept trying, but it was no use. The fish was just being stubborn. With a huff, Morty set down his plate and knife and made a move to try and simply peel the scales back. But he hadn't quite thought his decision through. The moment his skin came into contact with the fish Morty was yelping and jerking his hand away, cradling his mildly burned fingers close to his chest.    
  
The fish was winning..    
  
Morty frowned and stared at it a moment longer before looking up at the dragon and saying, "Could I have some help? I can't get past the scales and it's still too hot to grab."

“Ugh, he can't even manage to serve himself,” the dragon said, complaining to the sky. If he weren't feeling as he was, he would have let the boy struggle a while longer. But he was feeling generous. 

The dragon reached for the fish, one claw digging in sideways behind its gills. He sliced off what was probably a forty-pound fillet, flipping it over and resting it on top of where he'd cut. Steam lifted from the flaking, white flesh, now easily accessible. 

Morty's mouth watered and his eyes glossed over as he eyed up the slab of fish.    
  
"Luckily," The teen said, stabbing a bite of the warm, flakey deliciousness and bringing it up to his mouth to blow on. "I'm in the presence of a powerful and almighty dragon that just so happens to be feeling particularly generous."   
  
Morty chuckled to himself and popped the bite in his mouth, humming happily at the rich, smoked flavor that met his tongue.    
  
"Wow." He breathed excitedly before diving in for another bite, and then another, and another.

The dragon eyed him more meticulously, as he was distracted by the meal. Mortimer was his name. Or ‘Morty’ as he liked to be called. Rick had not thought of him by name before. But it was difficult to imagine him as just any human now, not after having witnessed his colorful personality. 

“I imagine the villagers take advantage of the fish in the lake. Have you ever gone fishing yourself?”

Morty made a thoughtful sound and, just barely remembering his manners, he swallowed before replying, "I have, but not often."   
  
Pausing in his indulgence, Morty glanced over toward the dragon and expanded. "It's illegal for people to fish on their own. The only people who can afford to fish are the people who sell their catch at the market. If you can't pay the tax to the castle you can't fish in the lake."   
  
Morty shrugged and glanced back down at his plate with a wry smile. "That doesn't mean everybody listens. What you can't afford, you catch yourself, I guess, but I almost got caught last time. I haven't been back since."

“You mean to say that the crown claims ownership of the lake? And do they claim the woods as well? Is there a tax on the wild game?”

Morty looked at the dragon with slight confusion, surprised that he didn't know. But then Morty was reminded once more that the mountain had remained empty for over half a century. Of course the dragon didn't know. How could he? And it wasn't like the King could tax the  _ dragons.  _   
  
"Right, you wouldn't know." Clearing his throat, the brunet set down his fork and carefully explained, "The King claims ownership to the surrounding land all the way to the sea far to the east. Which includes everything in it. The crops, the lake, the forest, everything short of the Vienišas Mountain."   
  
The teen's lips curled in distaste and he looked down at his plate, prodding the fish with his fork.    
  
"He'd probably claim that too if he could. Everything that can be taxed,  _ is _ , and everything that can't be taxed is claimed as a luxury allowed to us by the  _ dangaus dievai,  _ your people.”

The dragon turned to look at the castle in the distance, so small and insignificant, and yet it meant so much to the humans. He imagined that there weren’t many luxuries to be claimed. Rick’s good mood had gone sour as he thought about it all. And so he stood up, tucking in his wings and turning back to the mouth of the cave.

“Finish eating and then finish what you know of the map. I’ll be in the library.”

Twin brows pinched together in a look of perplexed confusion but Morty didn't try and stop the dragon. He just nodded in understanding and called out a quick, "Thank you!" before turning back to his food and continuing to eat.    
  
Morty wondered about the reason behind the dragon's sudden mood change.    
  
He wondered if he was angry at the crown or angry at humans in general. Or maybe he was mad that he hadn't thought to tax the humans himself. Morty cast that last idea away as soon as it crossed his mind, almost entirely positive that didn't have anything to do with it. Maybe he was just upset that humans were disrupting the natural order of the world, making it harder for others of their species to eat and survive when the resources were right there. Morty himself had been angry about that as well, he still was in some ways, but that idea soon disappeared as wishful thinking.    
  
The dragon didn't care about humans, especially as a whole, and Morty wasn't sure he ever would. He sincerely doubted the Lord of the Castle would care about their plights.   
  
Morty shrugged to himself and hacked off a big portion of fish, filling his plate for later. Taking one last look at the sky, Morty sighed. He felt grateful for the dragon's generosity, as well as the food in his belly and, with a quickly spoken prayer for the fish and its sacrifice, Morty made his way back inside to start working on the map once more.

* * *

Rick stood in the library of Castle Flame. The aisles were long and narrow, and tall enough that a fall from the top shelf would surely break a human’s legs, if not kill him. He walked to the center and stood in front of a wide table, stacked with a mess of books, some opened, others with pages folded in. He had read all of them. He had memorized the useless texts.

The books he needed were not here. They were in the castle, if they existed. If it was anything else in the world, he could simply demand it. But not these. If one asks for a bandage, the other can only imagine there is a wound. Rick couldn’t let that happen, not ever. 

Part of Rick resented the boy for not being able to give him the complete map he so desperately needed. He had been so hopeful. But as quickly as the resentment flared up, it quieted down. Thinking of the small human happily eating fish that he wasn’t allowed to catch himself, or marveling at the cliffside view, or defending his honor when being warned against stealing treasure, he knew he could never be blamed. 

But bloody fuck, he  _ needed _ a map. If he couldn’t get a whole one, he needed Morty’s map to be enough. He took out his flask and drank. He set it on the table with a sigh.

There was also the matter of the king having played him for a fool. He didn’t know why he wasn’t angrier. Perhaps it had to do with just how charming the illegitimate son was. But still, he would have to handle this insult with the utmost attention. The kingdom could not believe it was acceptable to fool their god. 

No, the king would have to be dealt with eventually.

TBC


	4. Chapter 4

Morty eventually woke up from an impromptu nap with a yawn and a crick in his neck. Owlishly blinking eyes still glazed with sleep looked around the unfamiliar space and, for the briefest second, Morty wondered where he was. When he caught sight of the finished map though, completely dry and ready to be shown to the Master of the castle, recognition flooded the teen and a huge smile found his lips.   
  
He must've fallen asleep after he finished the project. Morty wasn't terribly surprised. As a reward to himself he'd eaten the last of his fish and set his head down to rest. He remembered his fingers hurting and a headache brewing in the back of his skull from the dim lighting and the excessive focus he poured into making the lines as neat and clear as he possibly could. Despite the fact that it still wasn't labeled.   
  
Morty still didn't know how he was supposed to go about telling the dragon why he couldn’t possibly label the map. It seemed easy enough. The deity already knew most of his situation, that he wasn't royal and that the king tricked him.. But somehow, the fact that he couldn't read or write felt like even more of a disclaimer on his unworthiness than his lack of royal blood. He already had one strike against him in the dragon's eyes. Maybe two. Being human and a commoner was more than enough, and Morty didn't want to add onto the list of things the dragon would have to overlook.   
  
The creature was nice enough to let him stay as it was.   
  
He'd never lived in such luxury. Though Morty had no doubt in his mind that, eventually, the work the dragon asked him to do would become more challenging, the pay off was already better than what he was used to. Not only had he been wonderfully fed two days in a row, allowing him to rest easy with a full belly, but he was wearing clothes that he never could've imagined. They were so fancy. It was almost difficult to wear them, all things considered, and the teen was still reeling over the heart attack he'd suffered the night before when he accidently spilled a drop of ink onto his pants.   
  
The boy chuckled as he sat up and gave his neck a roll. He was still a bit sore from the way he'd slept but Morty didn't mind. He'd experienced worse.

Grabbing the map and rolling it into a nice little scroll, Morty stood from his chair and made his way through the castle, actively looking for the sky god. The torches were lit so it wasn't difficult to find him. But when the path he was traveling suddenly veered off into a portion of the castle he'd never been to before, Morty's curiosity skyrocketed.   
  
He eagerly followed the hallway, wondering where he'd find the dragon now. But, when Morty came among a massive set of twin doors and opened them to find a far stretching library, his eyes widened with both awe and surprise.   
  
The shelves seemed to go on forever and the room itself was a bit mind-boggling in a creepy, ominous sort of way. The shift from light to dark was nearly gradient -- the way the light from the widely spaced candles flickered across the army of leather-bound knowledge, only to fade the higher up it got before disappearing entirely, leaving only unbroken darkness above -- an aesthetic marvel. Long, stretching shelves sat ahead of him, towering over his head in a way Morty could scarcely believe was real. It was all so large and imposing but, as he stepped deeper inside, Morty was surprised to realize how calm the space felt. Despite being somewhat scary, the darkened library was a relaxed space. It exuded an atmosphere of peace and knowledge and Morty decided, right then and there, that he liked it more than he ever imagined he could.   
  
The teen smiled to himself and started walking forward, still in search of the dragon. He trailed his fingertips lightly over the rows of spines alongside him with a hum, slipping deeper and deeper into the sea of books. When he reached its heart -- finding a large table smack dab in what Morty would've instantly assumed was the middle, its surface mounded with papers and scrolls and clearly marked books -- he felt his curiosity reach new levels.   
  
Without thinking about it, Morty approached.   
  
And, though he'd known from the start that he probably wouldn't be able to understand what he was looking at, the brunet was surprised to discover that the open books were full of bodies. _Human bodies._ They were neatly drawn, all labeled in some way as they struck various poses. Many were drawings of cadavers, that much was clear. There were parts he didn't understand, drawings that made no sense or that he hadn't seen before, but Morty couldn't stop staring, wondering what in the world these books were for.

“See anything interesting?” Rick said sharply, from where he stood in one of the dark aisles. He'd gone to retrieve a book and returned to find the human examining his research table.

The boy jumped at the sound of his voice, obviously having thought himself alone. He dropped the large scroll as well, which rolled toward Rick and stopped at his feet.

Wracked with anxiety, Morty stood in front of Rick like a statue, his gaze trained on the sky god's.   
  
"My Lord! I-I-I.. I was umm, I was just looking for you. I finished the map and I wanted to show you right away! I didn't mean to -- to snoop. The table was just there a-and there were so many books a-a-and it was right in the middle, y'know? I just got curious but I only saw the pictures, I promise!"   
  
The teen snapped his mouth closed, trying to prevent himself from rambling and embarrassing himself even further.

Rick gave him a long glance just to prove his point, and then bent down to retrieve the scroll. He unfurled it there and looked it over. The map wasn’t bad at all, even if the ink lines were a little uneven. He could differentiate hallways from rooms, and he could see staircases and smaller passages. It would be great for someone who wanted to explore aimlessly. But Rick had a destination. He needed to know where things were.

“You haven’t labeled the rooms.”

Morty's cheeks flushed with color and, though his heart fluttered with a burst of momentary panic, he smothered it with a quickly thought out lie.   
  
"I haven't done that part yet. I just finished the rooms and I wanted to wait for it to dry so I didn't smear the ink but, since it was, I thought I'd show you first."

Rolling his eyes, Rick said, “How long does it take for ink to dry? You’re clearly dragging your feet with this. Are you- are you sure you don’t still think I’m going to go in there and eat the royal family’s children? Or something else terrible? Because I’m not. As long as nobody gets in my way I don’t plan on killing a soul. It’s a stealth mission, a mission I can’t do if I don’t know what the hell is where on this map!”

"I'm just trying to do a good job." Morty argued.   
  
"I didn't exactly pay attention while I was in the castle." He said, trying to keep his tone respectful while also defending himself with more than a slight edge of indignation in his voice. "I never worked there imagining I'd be making a map from memory later. I'm doing my best."

Very sharply, Rick said, “ _Check your tone, human._ I told you I don't like something. What is an appropriate response?”

A battle of conflicting emotions waged on inside Morty's heart and, though he wanted to stand tall and argue, positive that he hadn't done anything wrong, he also accepted that the dragon was his master and he could demand whatever he pleased.  
  
The teen dipped his head in submission, his fists clenched at his side.   
  
"Yes, my Lord. I apologize for my..." Morty paused, trying to find a word that he wouldn't choke himself on and finally settled for, "attitude."

“That’s better,” Rick said. He came closer as Morty stood up straight, and surprised the boy by reaching for him. He rubbed his thumb against Morty’s cheek, just under his eye.

“You have ink on your face,” he said, more gently than he'd spoken before. “I believe you're due for a bath.”

The ghost of the dragon's touch lingered against Morty's cheek and, suddenly, that wasn’t the only phantom touch he could feel. He distinctly remembered the way it felt to have the deity's thumb wiping dirt from his forehead and claws ruffling his hair. He could feel the dragon's breath against the back of his neck and the warmth of protection as he slept the night before and it made Morty tremble, his lips parting as he tried to take in a much needed breath.   
  
But that didn't help.   
  
It only served to draw in the dragon's scent and Morty's eyes fluttered. He smelled like smoke. Like ink and parchment and herbs, and it wiped all the thought from Morty's confusion addled brain.   
  
"A -- a bath, Master?" He replied without thought, his voice somewhat dazed.

Rick licked his finger and returned it to the ink spot on Morty’s cheek, giving it another rub. It did nothing, and he nodded.

“Yes, definitely a bath.”

 

* * *

 

Rick instructed Morty to return the scroll to the basement while Rick continued to read. When he returned to the library, they set off together.

As they walked, Rick talked. “When warm weather descends upon the mountain, the snow at the peak begins to melt. The water seeps into the cracks in the stone. When the weather again becomes cold, that water freezes and forces the cracks open wider. The cycle continued until certain passageways emerged between the outside of the mountain and the caverns within. The water flows through channels in the stone.”

They reached the far end of the castle, somewhere Morty had not been to before. At the end of the hall they descended a narrow, spiral staircase, Rick carrying a small torch as they went.

“This is how the castle receives fresh water without anyone having to retrieve it from the lake. There are several channels we have access to, and exit channels where used water escapes and eventually drains near the base of the mountain.”

They reached a room roughly twice the size of Rick's sleeping quarters, where the geometric stone blocks of the castle ended and the natural curves of the cavern began. Above them was a rounded, naturally curved ceiling where stalactites hung over head. Below was a modest area with a bench, a shelf of towels and a wall-mounted rack where bathrobes hung.

And before them was a long stretch of dark, shimmering water. Rick held the torch in front of him, the flame licking against his lips. He whispered into it and the golden glow of the dragon's fire transformed into pale blue. Then Rick tossed the torch into the water. But instead of going out with a hiss, the torch began to sink to the bottom, the blue flame living on. The shimmering black surface of the water was suddenly blue, the bottom visible where the torch rested. It was not as deep and menacing as one would have expected. Rick glanced at Morty to see what he thought of it.

"It's beautiful." Morty breathed in awe, his eyes glued to the impossible nature of the blue flames licking at the bottom of the pool.   
  
It was unlike anything Morty had ever seen. The beauty surrounding him was unique in its combination, the natural wonder of the water-filled cavern combined with all the homey things that'd been added later on, but what really had Morty tangled up with enjoyment was the _magic._ After hearing about it for the entirety of his life, pounded through and through by the tales of old, by the history of the dragons and all their power, he was finally able to witness some of it for himself. Morty couldn't get enough.   
  
He couldn't stop wanting to see more. He couldn't stop waiting with bated breath to see what the master of Castle Flame would do next and, though he should've been afraid -- very afraid if the dragon's threats and his constant mood swings were to be believed -- Morty couldn't even find it in himself to have those emotions. He was hesitant, yes, wary of what'd happen if he stepped over the line too far, even on accident, but he wasn't afraid. Maybe he was broken. Maybe his sense of self-preservation was more skewed than a broken compass. But Morty didn't care. As long as he got to witness _this._  
  
Realizing that he hadn't said anything for a long moment, Morty spun to face the dragon and offered him the biggest, widest smile imaginable. Morty nearly cringed when he thought about how ridiculous he must look, but the teen couldn't help himself. If nothing, it was genuine.   
  
"Your magic is magnificent." He admitted honestly. "I've never seen magic before.. I've heard about it, dragon abilities have been in our history for ages, but to actually see it close up.. It's like nothing I've ever imagined! And you just _do it._ You don't even seem to think about it, it's just natural to you. Like breathing or speaking. Sometimes I can't believe that you're real."   
  
The teen looked back towards the water and then back at the sky god, his eyes lighting up with excitement.   
  
"May I?"

Rick pressed his lips into a thin line, trying not to smile. Being in the presence of this human made him realize how numb he had become to so many things in life, things he had seen a thousand times before. There were so many little things he overlooked. But watching Morty's reaction had him trying to look at it anew. His magic, his treasure, Castle Flame, the view from the cliff…

“You may,” Rick said, his mouth finally turning up into a smirk.

Elation radiated off Morty like rays from the sun and he made an animated sound of delight as he laughed and scrambled forward, stopping just short of the water. Surprisingly proficient fingers started fumbling with the little buttons down the front of his jacket and, once freed of it, Morty was quick to fold up the velvet fabric and drop it to the ground. The teen shed his white undershirt without thought but, as he reached for his trousers, a wave of unexpected bashfulness swept through him.   
  
The sky god was watching. Morty could feel those otherworldly amber eyes against his back like dragon's fire against his skin and a sudden shiver raced down his spine.   
  
Morty swallowed. He wasn't sure why he was nervous. He shouldn't have been. The sky god might've been different than him but the creature still had a human form. He was still male. They had similar bodies. It wasn't anything the older man hadn't seen before, Morty was sure, but that didn't stop the anxiety that continued to eat him from the outside in.   
  
All he could think about was the first time they met and the look in the dragon's eyes as he disrobed before him, that flicker of heat that'd been gone in seconds, quickly replaced by a sudden kiss and cruel laughter. It made Morty wonder how the dragon was looking at him now.   
  
Casting a shy look over his shoulder, Morty's cheeks flushed with color and he glanced up at the sky god from beneath his lashes.   
  
"Would you umm.. Would you mind, y'know, turning around for a second? While I get in, I mean."

“Ah,” he chuckled, turning. “Of course.”

And of course he didn’t have to. Rick could have demanded that the boy strip at his own expense, but making attractive humans uncomfortable wasn’t rewarding for him. It was unclassy, and too easy. So he waited, listening to the rustling of fabric.

He busied himself by walking to the rack of robes and taking one down. Because he knew it would only be a few seconds before Morty would need it.

Morty flushed with pleasure when the dragon did as he asked and turned around. The deity's constant respect for his boundaries where his body was concerned was one of the biggest sources of Morty's growing trust in him and the teen was glad it existed.   
  
He murmured a quick thank you and shucked his pants off just as fast, not wanting to test the dragon's patience. But when he rushed forward towards the water, eager to submerge his nakedness, Morty discovered that he was in for a bit of a surprise. He made it all the way into the middle of his calves before the icy chill of the water set in and he jumped out with a startled yowl, his teeth chattering almost instantly.   
  
"It's so c-c-cold!"

Rick chuckled again. “Here,” he said, offering the silk robe without looking. He felt it leave his hand as Morty took it. “I told you the water is directly from the melted snow at the peak of the mountain. It’s not something a human would want to relax in.”

Rick turned just as Morty was tying up the thin belt. And hell, he looked so sad and disappointed. “Hey, don’t fret. Go sit on the bench and I’ll warm it up.”

Feeling reminiscent of a puppy that'd been innocently tricked for a laugh, Morty sat huddled up on the ledge and watched the dragon with interest as his teeth continued to chatter.

Rick removed his boots and undid his vest, looking at the water as he did so. He undressed completely, setting his clothes on a shelf near the towels. Bare naked, he walked to the water and put his feet in.

Morty kept his head down as the deity disrobed, preserving the sense of modesty that the creature ahead of him didn't seem to have. Upon hearing a tell-tale splash of water he looked up, expecting the dragon to be submerged, but he wasn't even knee deep yet. He was still standing there with his back to him, body on display, and Morty's mouth went dry.

The dragon's pale, ashen skin was like nothing he'd ever seen. Although most of him was as a human should be, the sky god was also adorned with long patches of eye-catching scales. The opalescent-blue plates ran from his shoulders, down his back and tapered off along the base of his spine in an attractive display. Looking closer, Morty saw that each of Rick's vertebrae was protruding through his skin into short, white spines. Along with his back and shoulders, symmetrical patches of scales ran over the dragon's biceps and quadriceps, catching the light reflecting from the magically illuminated water. As it was, the sight reminded Morty a bit of a thunder egg, the vibrant blue surrounded by brilliant, multi-faceted white, and he couldn't look away.

The teen found himself momentarily daydreaming about how the plated skin might feel.

Finally Rick began to wade into the deeper water. He moved to the side where the edge was steep so he could sit up comfortably.   
  
The brunet didn't even realize that he'd stood. But in mere moments, he was standing right at the water's edge. His eyes were glued to the dragon, watching as his scales glimmered like stones in the liquid starlight of the water he'd waded into.   
  
Rick glanced up at the boy, standing there in his short, thin robe. He couldn't help it as his gaze slid down the human’s figure, lingering on his slender legs. Rick remembered how his skin had felt in bed, his thighs deliciously smooth beneath the dragon's fingers.  

That's when he noticed Morty ogling, undoubtedly over Rick's scales. Rick couldn't blame him though, as they weren't a common sight to any human in this Kingdom. Not to mention that Rick hadn't been keeping his gaze to himself either. He forced himself to respectfully look away, instead, studying the light glistening on the stalactites above. He concentrated on warming the water, willing the dragon fire within him to permeate his skin.

“The water should be warm in a few minutes.” He turned back to Morty, speaking with a neutral expression. “Silk is a good look for you.”

"Thanks." The teen said, his tone somewhat absent-minded as he watched the water, looking for any indication that it wasn't colder than ice. "I've never worn silk before but it's really soft. Feels nice against my skin."

With nothing to say, Rick didn't answer. They remained there in silence until Rick remembered something and spoke up. He directed Morty to the shelves where he found an arrangement of soap bars wrapped in paper. Morty unwrapped one and brought it to Rick, setting it on the ledge nearby.

By now the water around Rick was enticingly hot, steam drifting up from the surface. Rick said, “The far end may still be cool, but I imagine you'll feel quite comfortable sitting by me until the rest of the water warms.”

Curious beyond compare, Morty approached the water with less caution than he probably should've after getting his ass frozen off just minutes ago, and casually dropped his robe to the side before making his way in. The temperature was still fairly chilly but it wasn't nearly as cold as the water he was used to bathing in, so Morty didn't pay it any mind. However, as he got closer to the dragon and felt the warmth start to envelop him, he groaned and quickly waded forward.   
  
Warm water was a luxury Morty wasn't used to having, and legitimately hot water was even more rare. The steps necessary to heat bath water were far too involved for most people, his own family included, and Morty could count the number of warm baths he'd had in his entire life on one hand. And the closer to the dragon he got, the warmer the water became, something Morty took immediate advantage of.   
  
The teen took a seat on the small lip inside the pool as close to the dragon as he felt was appropriate, maybe even a bit closer still, and immediately curled up in a partial fetal position against the ledge. Green eyes fell half-closed as the teen laid his cheek against the cool, natural stone and Morty sighed with obvious pleasure.   
  
The temperature continued to rise bit by bit and, as it did, Morty slipped deeper and deeper into into the lull of utter relaxation.   
  
"You could work me to death and this bath would still be completely worth it." Morty murmured, his eyes falling momentarily shut as he scooted just a tiny bit closer to the dragon, a shiver running up his spine as he felt the immediate difference in the water. "Thank you for warming it. I know you didn't have to."

Rick could only compare this to scratching a dog behind the ear, except a lot more enticing to watch. The boy was _melting._ Was he really so unaccustomed to hot baths?

“I would have warmed it whether or not you were here,” Rick said. “I may not be able to freeze to death, but that doesn't mean I enjoy a cold bath.”

Morty momentarily debated on whether or not he should explain that not everyone had an option when it came to the temperature of their bath water. He ultimately decided it wasn't worth it. He didn't want the dragon to get mad at him, not when the creature seemed like he was in a fairly good mood. Instead he wiggled a bit lower into the warm water and just let his mind wander.   
  
However, no matter where his thoughts went, they always seemed to loop back around and return to the mystery seated beside him.   
  
Eyes blinking open, Morty looked to the deity sitting next to him. At first he tried to be subtle about his staring. He stuck to sneaking quick, fleeting glances as he also looked around the rest of the cave, trying to be interested in that as well, but, after trying and obviously failing, he eventually just let his gaze settle on the older man. Intrigued eyes wandered shamelessly over the portions of the dragon that he could see, soaking in the unique sight before him. Morty couldn't help himself. The plated scales adorning the sky god's skin were a marvel to Morty. They were something he'd never seen before and he wondered what it'd be like to touch them. Would they be warm? Maybe hot to the touch? Or would they be surprisingly cool? He wondered if it'd be like touching a snake or if their texture was unique as well, and that just sent his mind spiraling into a whole new series of unanswered questions.   
  
He'd never seen their equal. Even on a serpent. He'd seen scales that were green and brown and even orange but never blue. They looked so ethereal and otherworldly, like something that belonged in a fairytale rather than on a living, breathing person, and Morty was having a hard time focusing on anything else.

Meanwhile, Rick was having a hard time ignoring the boy's unwavering gaze. Sure, Rick knew he was a sight to see if one had never seen it before. But this was… well, a shade disconcerting.

“I imagine you could draw me from memory, by now.”

The brunet's cheeks flushed a pale pink when the dragon suddenly called him out for his staring, and Morty quickly looked away.   
  
"Right, sorry. I didn't mean to stare I just.."   
  
Peeking back over at the complex pattern scattered over the deity's skin, Morty's desire won out over his shyness and, even though he was somewhat embarrassed, he forced himself to try and swallow it down.   
  
"Your skin is really... I almost want to say beautiful but that's not quite it. It's pretty but it's more.." Morty struggled for words, his brows pinching together as he fought to find the correct term. “Elegant."

He looked nervously up towards the dragon’s face. "I was wondering if I could -- I mean, if it'd be okay if I could possibly.."   
  
Morty cleared his throat, obviously flustered and all but shoved the words out. "Can I touch them? Your scales. I'm not sure if that's rude or not and I don't mean for it to be, they're just really incredible and I'm curious about what they'd feel like."

Rick stared. He was tempted to make an inappropriate comment about Morty touching him however he pleased, but he resisted. The boy’s curiosity was charming.

“Well,” Rick said, looking artificially thoughtful, “since you’ll be bathing me, I imagine that will involve touching my scales.” Rick reached for the bar of soap and handed it to Morty, offering a subdued smile.

The teen's eyes widened at the implication that he'd be doing more than just briefly touching, but he said nothing against it. He was getting what he wanted either way and, if Morty was secretly a bit excited about being able to run his hands over the sky god's body, then that was his secret to keep and nobody else needed to know.   
  
Lathering his hands with soap, Morty reached toward the dragon only to hesitate. For one reason or another, the moment felt massive in Morty's mind. People in the village didn't usually touch each other, not for more than dancing and the occasional hug, and certainly not to bathe each other, but somehow it felt right and Morty desperately wanted to get his hands on the man in front of him. Even if he didn't know why.   
  
Bridging the distance between them, Morty laid his hand experimentally against the older man's bicep only to gasp.   
  
"You're so warm." Morty said, his voice full of wonder as he slid his palm up and down the dragon's arm, smiling eagerly at the easy glide provided by the soap and the deity's smooth scales.

“I _did_ just heat the bath,” Rick commented.

What he didn't say was that Morty felt nice as well. His hands, although slightly calloused, were gentle and hesitant, his fingers humanly fragile.

The boy seemed very curious about the dragon aspects of him, although that was no surprise. Anyone would be. Still, if he was this enthralled by the sight of Rick’s scales, he could only imagine his reaction to the horns and tail.

But that would have to wait for another time. He didn't want to overwhelm him. It was an odd thought, considering that the boy had just been carried up to a mountain by a full-sized dragon. But it was a little different with moments like this. A human with dragon traits was sometimes more frightening to humans than a full-sized beast. And Morty was alone with him. Naked.

After sufficiently soaping the dragon's arm, Morty was even more eager to get his hands on more of the deity and, though he tried to hide that excitement, he was almost positive that his tone gave it away.

“Would you mind turning your back to me, please?”

The dragon obliged his request without comment and, upon being presented with the wide stretching canvas of the older man's back, Morty's stomach did a small flip.   
  
"Wow." He whispered quietly to himself, his gaze traveling up and down the dragon's spine in a way that was probably less than appropriate.   
  
There wasn't a moment of hesitation when Morty reached for the sky god a second time. Even if it wasn't intentional, Morty ended up scooting just a little bit closer, undeniably drawn to his owner. Reverent hands traveled up and down the dragon's back, exploring to his heart's content under the guise of washing, and Morty didn't even have it in him to feel bashful or worried about his actions.   
  
It was just so _interesting._   
  
The difference in texture from plated scales to soft, weathered skin, the unnatural warmth beneath his hands, the surprisingly blunt-pointed ridges along the dragon's spine, and the knowledge that all of it belonged to a being he'd worshipped for the entirety of his life was almost too much for Morty to handle. His mind felt fogged over and mildly detached, like he couldn't believe it was actually him in the moment, and yet he'd never been more aware of his surroundings or what he was doing.   
  
Trailing his hands back up the length of the dragon's back, Morty cupped the nape of his neck and started gently rubbing soap against his skin as an excuse to knead the firm muscles beneath his touch.

As the human touched him, Rick's thoughts went from drifting absent-mindedly to focused, cued in on each movement of Morty’s hands. It occurred to Rick that curiosity was something that made him bold. As he had once snuck off into forbidden areas of the castle, desperate to know more, he now made confident strokes over Rick's skin.

For a moment it actually made him question whether or not Morty was a virgin.

The thought was fleeting. He reminded himself of Morty's behavior in bed the night before and the morning after. Yes, he was definitely a virgin. Not that it mattered. What was interesting was knowing the truth.

Because in all honesty, Rick was flushed by the idea of his modest, virgin sacrifice boldly running his hands over Rick's body.

Rick spoke with genuine thoughtfulness. “You know… I've had human lovers who were too afraid to touch me there. Some were good at hiding it, while others told me outright that they were fearful.”

A small burst of something unpleasant flared to life inside Morty's chest when the dragon mentioned previous lovers, but it was quickly shoved away in favor of genuine confusion before Morty could figure out what it meant.   
  
"Why would they be afraid?" Morty asked honestly, trailing his fingers calmly over the dragon's shoulders and then back down towards the ridges protruding from his spine, fingering them gently. "They're not sharp.. And your scales are really smooth. You could almost call them soft if they weren't so strong."

Rick began to get a feeling in his gut, something akin to wings unfolding inside of him. He could feel Morty’s thumb flicking upward along each spine, and then running down them one by one. Fuck, it was going right to his cock.

He looked upward, frustration peaking. This had to stop. “Alright, I'm clean enough.” He turned to Morty and took the soap from him. “Turn around.”

The teen was slightly startled by the unanticipated movement, his heart leaping into his throat when he was suddenly faced with the dragon he'd just been touching so shamelessly. Morty tried to tell himself that he wasn't disappointed as he handed back the soap, adamant with himself that there wasn't any real reason for him to _want_ to touch the dragon. It sounded like a rather feeble deflection even in his own mind..

Unsure of his own motivations and not really sure what was wrong with him, Morty turned around without question and offered his unguarded back to the dragon without fear.

“Lean back to wet your hair,” Rick said, hand on the center of his back. Morty complied, leaning and trusting Rick as his head sank into the warm water. Rick helped him upright, eyes following the water as it poured from his hair down his spine.

Rick worked the bar between his hands and set it aside. He ran his fingers through Morty’s hair, massaging his scalp and working up a lather.

Feeling the sky god's fingers in his hair, Morty melted into the contact immediately with a soft little mewl of unexpected pleasure. The older man's fingers were long and practiced, his nails like pure heaven as they scratched at his scalp, and Morty could do nothing but hum, eagerly tilting his head back in the hopes of more.

Rick immediately realized that switching who was bathing whom was not the solution to his increasing arousal. Morty’s noises were becoming an aphrodisiac for him.

“Rinse,” he ordered, and waited while the boy sunk into the water and washed the bubbles out of his hair. He took the momentary reprieve to will himself to calm down. But he could only do so much.

Morty returned to where he'd been and Rick began to wash his back. He washed his neck and shoulders, enjoying the chance to touch his soft, slippery skin without the boy shying away like he'd done in bed that morning.

Rick returned to his shoulders and began to press more firmly, massaging the muscles.

“Is this alright?”

Even now, naked in the bath with his hands all over Morty’s, the dragon was still respecting his boundaries. If the situation would've been different, if it would've been a man and a woman from the village, nobody would've thought twice if consent was assumed. Regardless of whether it was or not.. But the dragon didn't assume. The dragon was _asking._ The highest authority in the land, possibly the world, was asking if it was alright to touch him.   
  
Some unnamed emotion budded to life inside of the brunet's chest, blooming like a flower in search of the sun, and Morty found himself smiling fondly down at the water.   
  
"Yes, it's alright." He said calmly, reaching out to skim his fingers along the water's surface in a meaningless design, watching the resulting ripples. “It feels really nice. Your hands are still so warm..”

The teen closed his eyes and captured the swell of his bottom lip between his teeth, worrying the flesh gently. Part of him was terrified of what he was saying. As well as what he wanted to say. He was scared the dragon would choose this moment to turn dismissive.. Scared that he'd say something mean or make a joke out of it at his expense or, even worse still, that he'd leave without a word.

“I like when you touch me.” Morty confessed, his voice barely above a whisper as he sat there, trembling under the sky god's hands.

Rick’s hands had slid down, below the surface of the water, thumbs firmly but carefully rubbing circles along Morty’s lower back. When he heard Morty speak, his movement grew still.

“Is that so?” he asked calmly. Morty, on the other hand, was trembling beneath his grasp. He moved his hands to the boy’s shoulders, holding him and warming him. He leaned in, his nose brushing the wet, tan skin along his spine. “You know, I would really like to kiss you right here. Would that be alright? I won’t be angry if you say ‘no’.”

A shaky exhale slipped from Morty's lips when the dragon leaned into him and the question that followed sent a shiver up his spine. The air around them was rich with energy, magical and foreign in a way that Morty had never felt before. And it was magnificent. The dragon's attention was utterly divine and, though he could admit that he had absolutely no idea what he was getting himself into, Morty wanted it desperately.   
  
From the moment the dragon's lips voiced the suggestion, Morty knew what his answer would be and he didn't hesitate to dip his head in response. It was both an offering of submission and an invitation for the dragon to continue as he exposed the nape of his neck to the man behind him.   
  
"Please." Morty whispered.

Rick moved closer, hands rubbing slowly up and down the boy’s arms. He brushed his lips up along the boy’s spine, from between his shoulder blades up to his hair. Rick released a heated breath against his skin, and pressed a kiss to his neck. It was chaste, light, testing the waters. The boy didn’t shy away and so he kissed him again, lips lingering on his damp skin. He tilted his head, slowly kissing the side of his neck beneath Morty’s ear. Carefully, giving Morty time to pull away, he eased himself against him, his chest pressing against Morty’s back, careful not to overheat him as he did so.

Rick murmured, “May I put my arms around you?”

Morty leaned back into the dragon's warmth and let out a soft gasp at the overabundance of skin-to-skin contact, his heart threatening to beat out of his chest.  
  
The sensation of the dragon's lips against his skin was like nothing he'd ever felt before. It was like the sky god was burning him up from the inside out. Like he'd ignited a fire inside his body and left it to burn itself out like a naturally occurring forest fire, and Morty couldn't get enough.   
  
Reaching back with only the slightest hesitancy, Morty slipped his fingers into the dragon's vibrant blue hair with a groan and tilted his head to the side, giving him more room.   
  
"Hold me." He murmured in response. "I want you to."

Rick groaned in response to his hair being pulled, and the words that Morty had spoken. He turned Morty so he could face him, pulling him closer. He kissed his neck, hand roaming to Morty’s waist. To avoid scaring him off, Rick tilted his hips carefully, making sure not to press his length against the shy human. It was difficult, however. He could only imagine how the boy would respond to bodily pleasure. His tapered tongue slipped out just a little, tasting his skin before he gently sucked.

He carefully dragged his teeth along the soft flesh, murmuring against the skin. “You’re so lovely.”

Morty whined low and heated in the back of his throat as he settled on the dragon's knees and let the creature indulge. It was wonderful, more wonderful than he ever would've expected. It felt like the dragon was everywhere. Like his lips and his teeth and the pulls of his mouth could be felt all the way down to the tips of Morty's toes and all he could do was take it with a series of whined out moans and a desire for more.

Wanting him closer, Morty eagerly wrapped both arms around the older man's neck. His fingers were restless as they carded through the creatures unnaturally colored hair, holding him close, and Morty didn't think it could get any better. He wanted more, even though he wasn't quite sure what more was. It wasn't until he scooted closer though, accidentally brushing against the dragon's length, that Morty was snapped back to reality.

He was hard. The dragon was _hard._ They were naked in a bath and he was sitting on the dragon's lap, letting the older man kiss and touch him. The thought sent a pleasant shiver down Morty's spine, something the dragon seemed to take as encouragement. Seconds later his face was being held in one of the creature's strong, confident hands and their eyes were meeting.

It was like a slap to the face to be met with those brilliant eyes. This sort of beauty couldn't be for him. He was a peasant. He was a _bastard._ And he was reaching for something far beyond his grasp.

Dragons weren't meant for people like him. He was only human. He wasn't even a human worth having. He was a mistake that his parents didn't want to talk about -- impoverished, and offered up as a convenient facade for someone above him.

He wasn't worth the attention of a god. He wasn't worthy.

Morty jerked back as if he really had been slapped, his eyes wide with alarm as the dragon leaned in to kiss him, and he quickly scrambled off the god's lap. Stuttering out a string of apologies, Morty fled from the pool. He scooped up his clothes and grabbed a towel as he rushed from the bathing cavern, dashing up the stairs as fast as his shaky legs could carry him.

He couldn't face the sky god and his heart cried out at the injustice of it. He wanted it. He wanted the dragon to kiss him like he had before, to steal his breath away and make him forget about everything else. He wanted to let the dragon and his lips become his entire universe. Even if just for a moment.

But his life wasn't a fairytale and Morty knew it wasn't meant to be.

 

* * *

 

Rick remained in the bath, no longer bothering to warm it. Very slowly the heated water filtered out, replaced by chilling snow-melt. He needed the cold to bring him to his senses.

The plan had always been to have the sacrifice draw him a map and explain as much as they could about the layout of the castle. And that was it. That was all he needed. And as long as the sacrifice didn't find out too much, they could live, and he would find something humane to do with them since going home would be a terrible dishonor.

But here he was trying to will his body to relax.  No one could blame him for struggling. After all, dragons had a weakness for beautiful things. It was common knowledge. And the boy, Morty, was both beautiful and charming.

The flame in the water finally began to dwindle, and Rick climbed out of the bath. Perhaps a night's rest would help clear his head.


	5. Chapter 5

After hastily redressing himself in a partially darkened corridor, Morty decided to go back to the dragon's workshop. It might not have been the ideal plan since his map was basically finished, but Morty wasn't sure what else to do. His head was a mess. His thoughts were all sorts of tangled up around the dragon, and Morty desperately needed some time to decompress.   
  
He still couldn't believe what happened in the bath. The phantom sensation of the older man's lips against his skin was stubborn enough to linger and, no matter how many times Morty rubbed or scratched at the skin there, he could still feel the dragon's mouth against the sensitive column of his neck; sucking, kissing, bringing him the sort of pleasure he'd never even known existed.   
  
Morty shook his head and sped up. He might've been able to run away from the sky god but Morty knew he was going to have a much harder time trying to outrun his own feelings, no matter how badly he wanted to.   
  
With that thought in mind, the curly haired brunet found himself at a real loss of what to do once he actually reached the dragon's workspace. The map was finished, as finished as it could possibly be anyway, and there was nothing left for him to do. Nothing other than labeling it. Which he also couldn't do.   
  
Morty frowned at that thought and dropped heavily into his chair. He wouldn't be able to delay the map for much longer. The dragon was already impatient and, if he kept going as he was, then he was sure to get eaten. How many more excuses could he provide before he was forced to admit that he couldn't do what the older man wanted? And what would happen to him then? It was bad enough that he wasn't a prince and that he couldn't finish the full map of the castle. The fact that he couldn't read or write to label it just made his shortcomings that much worse and Morty couldn't bear the thought of having to actually look his Master in the eye and tell him that he'd failed once again.   
  
Morty gritted his teeth. He wouldn't fail. Even if it took him all night to come up with some sort of solution he wouldn't fail. He'd label the map somehow. 

Meanwhile, on the other side of the castle, Rick reached his bedroom and discovered, just as he’d expected, that the human wasn't there. In truth, it was a little relieving. Morty was becoming  _ very _ distracting, and he didn’t think he would be able to sleep beside him in bed for another night, not without going mad.

Hanging his robe on a hook, Rick slid on his night shirt and climbed into bed. He could only assume that the boy was asleep in his own room, and part of Rick felt that there still wasn’t enough space between them.

 

* * *

 

It'd been hours and Morty was still no closer to figuring out how to label the map than when he first started. He'd contemplated all sorts of things, including spilling ink all over the damn thing just to buy himself more time, but, in the end, Morty was still stuck at square one. 

  
After a couple more minutes of useless thinking, Morty decided to just call it a night. He would simply have to face the music in the morning and hope that the dragon was feeling merciful. Though, Morty wasn't sure how likely that actually was. His time alone had given him more than enough time to keep thinking about what happened in the bath and, despite his attempt at persistently trying to remind himself that it meant nothing and that his main focus should be on labeling the map, Morty still ended up twisting his thoughts around tighter than an eight day clock.   
  
Morty sighed and started making his way through Castle Flame back toward his bedroom. However, as he passed a familiar hallway, inspiration struck hard and fast and Morty was left feeling like even more of an idiot than ever. The library! Why didn't he think of it before? It was full of knowledge, full of  _ books, _ and even though he didn't have a hope of reading any of it, maybe he could find a map of his own in there. Or at least pictures of what he was trying to label. It was a risk, a pretty big one since the dragon didn't seem to want him anywhere near whatever he was working on, but it beat going to up to bed empty handed.   
  
Potential victory sang within Morty's veins like a siren song as he made the trip down the corridor and to the library with a bounce in his step. He felt clever, resourceful even, and the idea of managing to get one by the dragon was strangely appealing.   
  
He probably should've known not to be so smug about such a far fetched idea.   
  
The library was more massive than he’d allowed himself to remember and, after a few more hours of work, Morty was just as stuck as he'd been before. Maybe even worse. He was seated at a table as far away from the dragon's project as he could possibly get, surrounded by a wide range of different books that made absolutely no sense to him. Very few of them had pictures and, as far as he could tell, none of them contained a household map. It was a disaster.. Not only because he didn't find what he was looking for but because, after thinking about it, Morty realized that he wouldn't be able to put the books back where they belonged.   
  
Fear pooled in the pit of Morty's belly like molasses, thick and heavy and impossible to miss. Not only was he going to have to admit his failure but he was probably going to be punished for going somewhere he wasn't supposed to be. The prospect was terrifying and it left Morty biting his nails, wondering what he was supposed to do.   
  
He supposed he could just put the books back and hope the dragon didn't notice if they were in the wrong spot. That just felt like delaying the inevitable though and Morty would've rather known the anger was coming instead of having it sprung on him sometime in the future..   
  
Instead, Morty was back right where he started, arms full of failure, waiting to face the music. Which, in turn, lead to Morty's decision to just stick it out and continue to try.   
  
Another chunk of time passed without an ounce of progress and Morty finally gave in to the temptation of a small distraction. He ended up making a quick trip to the kitchen for a jug of water, sure that the quick walk provide ample opportunity to stretch his legs without being so open-ended that he fell into a cycle of panic over his string of blaring mistakes. It only took a few minutes before Morty returned to his place in the library and went about returning to his work. It wasn't until he actually opened the bottle and started to drink from it, startling himself in the process when the liquid that met his tongue was unexpectedly sweet with a bit of an afterburn, that Morty realized he grabbed mead instead of water by mistake. He contemplated taking it back but ultimately decided against it, too tired and lazy to make the trip there and back a second time. It didn't taste bad and, since he'd be going to bed directly after, Morty didn't consider there to be much risk.   
  
But that was where he was wrong.   
  
After another hour and more than a couple added roadblocks, each of which lead to him taking another long drink from the bottle, Morty was sufficiently drunk and, even if he  _ could  _ read, all the words were swimming across the pages and he couldn't make heads nor tails of them. He didn't even want to imagine trying to write in the state that he was in.    
  
Morty smiled drunkenly to himself and started to giggle. He wasn't sure what was funny but it didn't really matter, at least he was laughing.   
  
That thought pulled another round of laughter from the teen and he stood up from the table, swaying slightly as he tried to find his balance. He was tired. He'd been up for hours, not getting anything done, and the castle was dark. There was nothing to do, not when the dragon was asleep and not there to bring light into his life.   
  
Thoughts of the dragon stirred Morty's interest. The dragon was warm and he'd probably be in bed. Maybe he'd be waiting. Maybe he'd get snuggled again.   
  
The thought was majorly appealing, Leaving all the books out in the open on his table, empty mead bottle beside them, Morty staggered his way through the castle. The fact that he managed to find the tower with the dragon's quarters in it at all was incredible enough, but the added bonus of him not tripping and falling down the stairs upgraded the achievement to a miracle in Morty's mind. It also made him giggle that much more as he stumbled into the dragon's room and started peeling his clothes off.   
  
Whether he ended up leaving his pants on because he was too drunk to get them off or because he was too tired to care about them, Morty didn't know. What he  _ did _ know was that the bed and the dragon sleeping within it looked more appealing than ever and Morty practically had hearts in his glassy, intoxicated eyes as he trampled all over his shucked off clothes as he made a beeline right for his Master.

As all dragons were, Rick was a heavy sleeper. But even so, he was woken by the mattress dipping and moving around. He opened his eyes to see Morty climbing onto the bed. The embers in the fireplace cast a soft glow, but it was enough for him to make out the boy. 

Morty giggled when he saw that Rick was awake, and Rick gulped. He was still recovering from the bath, and was far from ready for… whatever this was.

Rick’s voice was rough from sleep. “The bloody hell do y-y-y-you think you’re doing? Last night was not an open invitation for you to prance into my chambers whenever y-you pl-”

But Morty was flopping down against him, sighing like he hadn’t heard a thing. Rick picked up a scent and raised his brow. “Are you.. Have you been drinking?”

Morty snorted at the older man's question, as unattractive as that was, and tried not to laugh.   
  
"Shhhh, i'was 'n accident. Dooooon't tell the Master. He's got a  _ fiery _ temper."   
  
Morty giggled helplessly at his own stupid joke and snuggled as close to the dragon's warmth as possible, humming happily as he nestled in against the other man's body.

Rick frowned, indignant. “I see what you did, making pathetic dragon jokes! I do  _ not _ have a fiery temper! What are you-” Morty was clinging to him, nuzzling his face against Rick’s chest and chuckling happily. 

Rick huffed. He grumbled, “I do not have a bad temper.” 

“Noooo, of course not.” 

Rick grabbed his shoulders, pushing him back against the bed. He glared down at the boy, but there was a shimmer of humor behind his eyes. “Do I look mad right now?”

Laid back against the blankets, looking far more entertained than he had any right to be, Morty continued to smile before the dragon's question finally penetrated his alcohol addled brain. The teen's brows immediately dipped in minor confusion. 

“No. Do you have a -- a reason t’be?” 

Rick settled down, some of his weight pressed onto Morty with his elbows supporting the rest. “Of course,” he said with amusement. “You came into my room uninvited and woke me up. And now you’re being… silly. I’m going to have to punish you eventually.”

“You didn't  _ un-invite  _ me.” Morty reasoned with a heavy slur, looking all proud of himself for being able to have a thought. “I was invited yesterday a-and you didn't -- you didn't say I couldn't come back. ...No punishment.” Morty insisted. 

“Fair enough,” Rick said, leaning in and nuzzling against Morty’s neck. “But you still woke me up. Whole cities have burned because a dragon was woken from its slumber. But I suppose I can forgive you if you tell me why you were drinking.” He lifted his head to look at the boy again. “Hm?” 

Morty pouted a bit when the dragon moved away from his neck but, when presented with a question, he brightened back up. 

“It was an  _ accident.”  _ He insisted with a huff. “I jus’ wanted water. All those.. Those..” Morty struggled with the word, trying to remember what liquids were kept in before finally settling on, “jar thingies don't have any labels, Lord Master. ...Not that I could read it if it did.” He giggled. 

Green eyes got comically wide and Morty clapped a hand over his mouth with a whispered, “Oops..” before falling into contagious laughter once again, completely unbothered by how loose his lips were. 

“I don’t follow,” Rick said. “Have you read something of mine and found the handwriting illegible?” Rick thought of where he had left any papers out, but he could only think of his workshop and the library. The library! He narrowed his eyes. “You naughty…! Were you reading something you shouldn’t have?”

Morty blinked up at the dragon like he was stupid and said, “I didn't read ‘nything at all.”

Rick paused as it began to come together for him. “No one… No one ever taught you?”

"I'm ill.. illegit.. illiter..." Morty's brows furrowed as he kept stumbling over the word he wanted before he decided to say something else. "I can't make the words go. Barely anyone can.”

Rick studied Morty, who even drunk, seemed to be recoiling. His hands fidgeted together, eyes avoiding Rick. Hell. Barely anyone? Could only the royals and the church read? Rick sighed. “That’s why you haven’t finished the map, isn’t it?”

“Yes.” Morty whispered, still not looking at his companion. “M’sorry. Please don't be fiery.”

Rick ran his fingers through the boy’s hair, petting him. Now he understood the hesitation. The human was ashamed. “Well… as long as you can dictate what’s in the rooms, I can write it down. How about that? We’ll work on it together tomorrow. Hmm?” He rubbed Morty’s pink cheek with his thumb.  

The intoxicated teen soaked up the sky god's attention like an overly eager pet, leaning into each of his touches with a warm, happy little sound of appreciation.   
  
"Mmm.. Okay, Master." Morty readily agreed.

Rick moved to lay beside him again, propping his head on his elbow. The right thing to do would be to encourage the boy to sleep, but Rick wasn’t the most disciplined of creatures. “Let’s talk about something else, shall we? Tell me about yourself. There’s so much that I’d like to know. Tell me, have you ever fancied anyone in the past? Perhaps a maiden from the village?”

At the dragon's question, Morty's mood flipped a one-eighty and he snorted once more, offering up a smile and a series of giggles as though the older man had just said something particularly funny.   
  
"Pfft, me? I'm not really all that --  _ hic _ \-- all that interesting at all."   
  
The teen chuckled and clumsily pushed the curls sticking to his forehead up out of his face as best as he could, giggling some more when his limbs proved to be heavy and somewhat uncooperative. That is, until a particularly stubborn cluster of hair refused to be moved, at which point he started to pout.   
  
"I'm just a -- a boy that likes boy maidens that also has _ stupid curls in their face!"  _ _   
_ __   
Morty huffed in frustration before adopting a pair of unintended puppy dog eyes and looking to the man beside him.    
  
"Please help?"

Rick smiled calmly. “Do I look like a hairstylist? But I suppose I could give it a go…” He ran his fingers through the curls, realizing with little care that he was making it worse. “So tell me about these boy maidens. Did any of them know?”

"Mmm.. Just one." Morty said, his eyes momentarily fluttering closed when the dragon mussed his hair.   
  
When he opened them though, there was a sadness in the green depths that Morty was too inebriated to try and hide.   
  
"Edward. He was the carpenter's son. M'first crush. Very nice. At least I thought he was."   
  
Morty lulled his head to the side, looking up at the sky god with a partial frown.   
  
"He didn't end up being v'ry nice."

Rick’s brow drew down. “What did this Edward do to you?”

"He just wanted to -- to.." Morty pursed his lips as he searched for the right word to describe what happened. "Y'know.. He wanted to test th-the waters an' experiment. We kissed a few times. Nothin' major just -- just some stolen kisses. I really liked him. But it wasn't enough." Morty looked away for the first time, staring at the ceiling as he avoided the dragon's gaze. "I heard him call me names to his f-friends. He didn't know I was there. They laughed at me. He's married to the baker's daughter Sophie now."

“Hm,” Rick murmured. “Well, how about this? We'll give the ol Village a visit sometime, and you can bestow a generous gift of gold onto them. His unknowing wife will be so grateful she'll name their next son after you. And then our treacherous Edward will never be able to forget the name of the boy he slighted.”

Though the memory was rather sad, Morty couldn't help but smile at the dragon's response to it. It was so sly and petty and  _ funny.  _

Morty lulled his heavy head back towards the older man and smiled up at him with an easy-going, drunken, genuine type nature. 

“Just like that?” He asked. 

“Absolutely. It's a foolproof plan,” He laughed. “Anyway, let me ask you this. Does Edward have a mountain full of gold? Can he fly or breathe fire?”

Morty's features glowed with amusement and his smile just kept getting bigger the longer he looked at the man beside him. It was hard not to, though. It would've been hard even if he wasn't drunk as a skunk and dealing with the beginning of a crush on a man he shouldn't have.    
  
_ "Weeeell,"  _ The teen sing-songed, giggling as he clumsily turned over to face the dragon. "I don't think he's got a mountain of gold, Master. Pretty sure."   
  
The teen looked up at the sky god through his lashes and, as their eyes met, his heart fluttered and his cheeks started to darken even more than they already were. But Morty, even with his intoxication addled brain, could tell that the other man was affected by his display. And that made him feel bold. Bold and desired.    
  
"A-and y'know? It's probably a -- a good thing he can't fly or breathe fire either."   
  
Morty tried to lean in for effect but quickly realized his mistake when he miscalculated the distance and fell into the dragon's body. He intended to back away immediately but the warmth Morty found in the older man's chest was too tempting to resist, especially when his arms felt so weak and tired. Instead, Morty settled easily against the lord of the castle and breathed in the tantalizing perfume of his natural scent.    
  
"If he could, I never would've gotten over him.”

Rick rolled his eyes at the notion. “Even if he  _ could _ do all of that, would it make up for him having slighted you? After all, what makes a man but his actions?” 

Morty made a noncommittal noise and shrugged, but Rick hadn't expected much more. The boy was overdue for a good night's sleep. He put an arm over him to hold him closer, chin resting above his curly hair.

An unsettling thought came to Rick as he mulled over the things that had just been said. Specifically, his own answer to Morty's remark. Rick had been talking about the Villager, Edward, but what if the comment had applied to him? Who was he, if judged by his actions? If his gold and his Mountain were taken away, if he could no longer shape-shift or take to the skies and instead had to walk the earth as the humans did, what would he have to show for himself? 


	6. Chapter 6

Morty was positive he was dying.

From the moment rekindled awareness first made itself known, all he could feel was pain. Morty tried to avoid it, groaning and immediately turning his face deeper into the pillow. That only seemed to make it worse though. His head was pounding and, though he possessed no special powers, the teen was positive that he could've heard a pin drop from the bottom of the mountain. Everything sounded loud and grating and his stomach was rolling harder and faster than a barrel down a hill.

Curling in on himself, the brunet groaned unhappily and started muttering a prayer to the sky gods in their native tongue, praying for the hangover to disappear.

“Oh finally!” Rick exclaimed, ignoring the way Morty winced against his pillow, covering his ear. Rick moved to the bed and pulled back the blanket. “Get up. You have work to do. I’ve already waited far too long.” 

The boy whimpered, turning away from him. Rick moved to grab an extra shirt from his armoire and tied it to his belt for Morty to put on later. Then he grabbed the shirtless boy and threw him over his shoulder, shoes be damned. “Time to go!” 

The brunet cried out when he was suddenly hoisted up over the dragon's shoulder. For the most part, the sound was mostly composed of pure, unadulterated discomfort, but Morty had to admit that it also had some pretty strong ties to panic as well. Blood pounded through his skull, making the teen feel like his brain was going to explode any second. His first instinct was to thump the older man's back repeatedly and demand to be put down but, feeling like death warmed over,  Morty continued to hang limply in his grasp.   
  
"Master..." He whined pitifully, squeezing his eyes shut as he tried to block out the light.

He wasn't sure where they were going. Being upside down with his eyes squeezed shut didn’t afford Morty much in the way of recognition but, with every step, Morty could feel his nausea growing. Every single stair was his worst nightmare, every corner the bane of his existence, and Morty was doing everything he could to keep from throwing up down the sky god's back. 

If there was any possible way to earn a very slow and incredibly painful death, Morty had to assume it'd be that. 

Rick carried Morty to his study, where the once messy table had been cleared off. He set Morty on his feet in front of a chair. He’d made up a table setting with a slab of roasted meat that was twice the size of Morty’s head and, although ridiculously large, it was the smallest dish he’d provided thus far.

“Sit down,” Rick ordered. “Wild boar is a fatty meat. It will help settle your stomach. Eat, and keep drinking the water.” 

He watched as the boy gingerly took a seat. In the empty space beside the meal, Rick unrolled the map of the castle. He pulled up his own chair, along with an inkwell and quill. 

“While you eat you’ll be collaborating with me,” Rick explained. “I will be pointing to the different rooms that you’ve drawn, and you’ll be telling me what to write. Are you ready?” 

Morty stilled mid-bite, his eyes going wide with alarm at the dragon's claim. Morty couldn't remember much about the night before, not beyond drinking the mead and combing through the library trying to learn how to read anyway, but the way the dragon so casually mentioned writing for him, effectively solving his original problem, had Morty on edge. Did the dragon know? Was he humoring him? Maybe trying to be nice? Or was it coincidence that he was offering the one thing the teen was so desperate for? Had he discovered the little nook in the library and all the missing books? Or had Morty told him when he was drunk?

The teen couldn't remember at all but, as he forced himself to take a bite of the meal so generously provided to him by his companion, his worry faded to the background with a soft groan of appreciation. The meat was delicious against his tongue, the fat marbled and mouthwatering enough to temporarily make him forget that he was more hungover than he'd ever been before. And, with that, Morty decided that he should simply accept the opportunity given to him and try not to look a gift horse in the mouth. 

“S-sounds good, my Lord.” Morty said, taking another decently sized bite of the wild boar. 

“Do you mind if we start with the kitchen? It will be easier to remember each of the rooms if we start somewhere I've been before.”

“Frankly, we can begin on the other side of the kingdom as long as we reach the library and the apothecary's study.”

Nodding, Morty leaned over and pointed out a large room near the middle foundation of the castle, mentally imagining the layout. “It starts here with a small portion of the servants quarters on the left and a pantry on the right.”

“Alright, servants quarters and pantry.” Rick wrote quickly and neatly before glancing back at Morty. They continued this way for a while, Morty taking a walk through his own memory and filling in the blanks as they went. Rick continued to be the scribe. 

As much hesitancy as Morty had expressed, Rick was impressed at how much he could remember. Once in awhile the boy looked weary, and the dragon encouraged him to drink. Time passed quickly. He started to look better, clearly the time and liquid aiding in recovery from his hangover. At the end of a long stretch of hours, The map was mostly filled. 

“And this is everything you can remember?” Rick asked neutrally.

Morty nodded almost apologetically. 

Rick studied the map, golden eyes tracing the walkways and steps leading from the back entrance all the way to the destinations he desired. He would have it memorized in no time. He looked at the human for a long moment and a weight lifted from his chest.

“I am so fucking pleased with you.”

Morty’s eyes widened and Rick lunged for him, standing and pulling Morty out of his chair. He yelped in surprise as Rick spun him around, laughing and holding the small human off the ground. “I’m elated!” he shouted, kissing Morty’s cheek. “I am beside myself!” he said, kissing the other cheek. He set Morty on his feet and ruffled his curls, flashing a toothy grin. He held Morty’s hands in his own, stooping a bit to meet his eye.

“I want to reward you. Let me give you something. Anything in the world, and you’ll have it!” He watched Morty expectantly.

Morty stared into the dragon's golden eyes, hypnotized by the smile he found in them and the unfamiliar warmth that pooled in his belly, and his heart, when the older man praised him.    
  
Despite feeling somewhat nauseous after being picked up and spun around so suddenly, something both Morty and his hungover body didn't appreciate one bit, the teen couldn't have been more starstruck if he tried. The sky god looked so happy, his lips stretched wide in an unparalleled smile that took Morty's breath away. He could feel his cheeks heating up even more than they already were and, as his brain came back online and reminded him that the dragon was waiting for an answer, Morty nearly begged the older man to kiss him.   
  
The teen refrained though.    
  
A boon from a dragon was nothing to shake a stick at and Morty knew it. When the older man said  _ anything _ , the brunet knew that he meant it. He could ask for anything his heart desired, for riches like he'd never dreamed of, for clothes of the finest quality, for respect, power,  _ lovers _ . Maybe even a castle of his own. Hell, if he asked, Morty knew that the man in front of him had the power to usurp the King of Thais and put him on the throne instead.    
  
But Morty already had everything he wanted.    
  
In Castle Flame, with the dragon smiling at him, he had more than he'd ever dreamed of. More than he knew was possible. He had food in his belly and a warm, comfortable bed to sleep on. He was surrounded by treasure and luxury the likes of which he'd never known. He had access to clothes of the finest quality and a warm bath. But, aside from all the physical things, he was also in the presence of a  _ dragon _ . He was serving a magical creature that he'd dreamed of catching even a glimpse of since childhood.. And not only that, the sky god seemed to like him.    
  
He was treated well, or well enough at least. He had yet to be punished, even for all the times he'd misspoken or failed. He wasn't quite equal in the dragon's company but he was equal enough and suddenly Morty knew what he wanted more than anything.    
  
"I want to stay here." He said, the words flowing effortlessly from his lips as he continued to meet the older man's eyes, utterly mesmerized. "Now that the map is finished you might not have much use for me.. But I don't want you to take me back to the village. Or to any village. I want to stay here at Castle Flame as your servant. That is my wish."

Rick’s surprise caused his smile to falter. The boy did not seem to understand, nor did he  _ need _ to, that Rick would never return him to life in this kingdom. Dragons simply didn’t return sacrifices, nor would they allow a human to return to their people and regale secrets and tales of their time spent with the sky gods. Being a mystery was important to their preservation, and a human could not come home to share their masters’ weaknesses, whether it be of a physical or spiritual nature. Not that he believed the boy would do such a thing, but anything was possible under certain duress.

Rick had also not spent much time thinking of his sacrifice’s fate when he’d first acquired him. His focus had been on the map. But looking back, he imagined he might have set the boy free in a distant kingdom, somewhere where he was a stranger, and tales of dragons would not be credible. Some dragons would simply eat a sacrifice once they had grown bored with them, but Rick had always found that distasteful.  

Rick looked Morty in the eyes, still holding his hands. “Your kingdom chose you as a sacrifice to their sky god. Royal blood or no, they deemed you worthy in beauty and demeanor. You are not a loan that I plan on returning when I am through with you. You are mine. You belong to me, whether you like it or not.” 

Rick stood, releasing Morty’s hands. “Now, think of another request. I feel no joy in giving you something you already have.”

Morty felt a pang of loss when the dragon released his hands but he was smiling a bit too wide to care.   
  
The dragon wasn't going to take him back.  _ The dragon wasn't going to take him back! _ And not only that, but the older man still wanted to gift him with something. Though, what that something could be was still a mystery to Morty. Part of him wanted to ask if he could have some time to think about it but Morty didn't think the dragon would remain so generous for long.    
  
That still begged the question though, what to ask for?   
  
He already had everything he wanted and would probably want in the future. So what else was there? The only thing Morty could possibly think of was a pass to temporarily leave the cave and potentially search for things along the mountain.   
  
And that's when an idea hit him like a ton of bricks.   
  
"Can I visit my family?" He suddenly asked, looking up at the dragon with excited, overly hopeful eyes. "Will you take me to see them? I didn't think seeing them again would ever be an option. Especially since.. Well, since I was supposed to be a prince and my ‘father’ was supposed to be the king. But you know the truth now.. And if it's possible, I'd really like to let my parents know that I didn't get eaten and that I'm happy."   
  
Morty didn't mention that he also wanted to make sure that the King kept his promise. He wanted to see for himself that his family was no longer in poverty, desperate to get by, and he hoped the dragon would allow him his wish.

Rick pursed his lips. He was offering anything in the world. The boy already knew he could give him whatever he chose from a cavern of immeasurable riches. He could take him anywhere in the world where they could stay in the finest establishments, watch tournaments, gamble, drink, and eat like kings. 

But the boy wanted to see his family. Rick understood all too well. He felt a twinge of pain in his chest, but he pushed it back. Family meant everything to dragons, at least it did when they had them. The fact that the human would give up so many possibilities in favor of seeing his kin was admirable to Rick. Not all humans were like this.

“Very well,” he said. “I'll grant your request, even if I do find it a rather mundane choice.”

Though Morty hadn't expected the dragon to outright deny his request, he hadn't anticipated immediate agreement either and, when the dragon said yes, Morty couldn't stop smiling. He really wanted to hug the sky god. He wanted to wrap his arms around the dragon's thin waist and bury his face in his chest, to express his gratitude over and over, but something told Morty that the lord of the castle might not appreciate that. It wasn't proper, not for a person of his status, and Morty didn't want to accidentally disrespect the deity. Not with how much he'd let slide already.

Instead, Morty chose to address him the way he would've addressed the King. The teen dropped to one knee to look up at his Lord through the fan of his lashes and, as he did, Morty was pleased to realize that he felt immense satisfaction. It felt right to kneel to the dragon. If there was anyone Morty wanted to have his loyalty, it was the man in front of him. The King of Thais was a greedy man, one that didn't protect or really care much for his people. When the teen kneeled and spoke to him before the Sacrificial Offering, it was by force. It was because he had no choice and his family would suffer if he didn't. But when he bowed to the dragon.. 

Morty let the happiness he was feeling radiate from his body like warm rays from the sun as he smiled at his Master and reached for the older man's hand. 

He'd never been forced to kiss the rings of Thais when he spoke with the King but, as the brunet finally broke eye contact and looked down at the dragon's hand, he found himself unfathomably eager to do just that.

But Morty was still Morty and he couldn't pass up the opportunity to be bold, even in the midst of formality.    
  
The teen bypassed the sky god's rings all together and pressed his lips directly to the dragon's knuckle, letting his lips linger for just a moment too long before pulling away and looking back up at his companion. 

"You're most gracious, Lord Flame." Morty murmured, his tone soft and genuine. 

“Tch,” the dragon murmured, rolling his eyes over the display. But he could feel his own tapered ears turning pink from the feel of the boy’s soft lips on his skin, and his overeager display of gratitude. The gesture was clumsy and untrained, like someone who had stood in a crowd and watched others perform the act. And yet it was charming in its own way. 

“I  _ am _ gracious,” Rick agreed, “and I accept your gratitude. But you should know, you’re kneeling on the wrong knee. I believe it’s customary for humans to kneel on their left knee with their right knee up, when being knighted or showing thanks.” He watched Morty looking down at his knees as Rick spoke. “ _ You _ are kneeling on your right knee. In human culture this means nothing. It’s simply incorrect. However, in the custom of dragons, we kneel on our right knee to in order to propose marriage. If this is the case, I regret to inform you that I must decline.” 

Morty's look of perplexed confusion rapidly became one of startled alarm and he extracted his hand from the dragon's like he'd been burned.   
  
"O-of course, Master!" Morty stuttered, his cheeks betraying him in the worst sort of way as they started to darken. "I -- I mean, I'm not.. I'd never assume that a person of your stature would  _ ever.." _   
  
Morty's eyes reflected the horror within and his cheeks turned a shade darker as his mouth got him into even deeper trouble. It was mortifying and Morty felt like he pulled some sort of mental muscle with how violently he backtracked, trying to move as far away from his last statement as possible.    
  
"That's not -- It was a mistake! I just wanted to show respect. I had no idea they meant different things." He confirmed in a panicked rush.    
  
Realizing that he was still kneeling, Morty quickly sprung to his feet and silently prayed that the castle would just swallow him whole and get it over with.    
  
"Is there um, is there anything else I can get for you, m-my Lord? Or may I, uhh, may I go."

Rick did everything he could to hide his amusement, his face calm and his chin up. “Mm, I shouldn’t need anything for a while, as I would prefer to study the map in solitude. And I think I should send you out to the cliff for some sun. It’s past noon and you’ve not yet seen the natural light of day.”

It was then that a thought came to Rick, something he’d thought of once or twice while working on the map with Morty. “Ah, but I think I’ll send some work with you. Come here.” Rick walked over to a bookshelf, with Morty following after. He ran his fingers along the spines until he stopped on one. He pulled it from the shelf and handed it to Morty. Next he found a small package of blank paper, a quill and a bottle of ink. He stacked the items on top of the book in Morty’s arms. 

“While sunbathing, I want you to practice your penmanship. I chose a book written with large print. You will simply copy the letters onto the provided paper. You will find there are twenty-six of them. Practice writing each until they look similar to what you see in the book. Do you understand?”

Hugging the book and paper to his chest, quill and ink in hand, Morty continued to stand in front of the dragon for a moment longer, his lips parted in surprise. 

  
Of all the things he'd expected, that hadn't been one of them and, though Morty was still incredibly unclear about what happened the night before, he was definitely starting to think that his secret about being illiterate was no longer a secret.    
  
In fact, Morty wasn't even starting to think that. He was almost positive it was true.    
  
And yet.. He hadn't been punished. The dragon didn't seem particularly angry. In fact, other than the rude awakening, he'd seemed more than willing to help him. Morty wasn't exactly sure what to make of that, especially now that it seemed like the sky god was going to teach him to read and write.    
  
Emotion flooded through the curly-haired brunet. He want to say something, to thank the older man in some way and express the extent of his gratitude. He wanted to tell his companion how he'd always wanted to learn, how he'd always wanted to read and write and possess knowledge, but nothing would come out. The words were simply lodged in his throat, unable to escape, and no matter how many times the teen swallowed and tried to find some other way to thank the lord of the castle without spilling out his heart like a fool, nothing came to mind.    
  
There simply wasn’t words, not to express what he wanted. So, in the end, Morty just ended up nodding in understanding with a hastily choked out, "Thank you, my Lord." before darting out of the room and leaving the dragon to his own company.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, guys!
> 
> We're really glad that you all enjoyed the double chapters last time! They were both pretty short but much better as a set than one lengthy segment. Well! We've got another chapter for you and this one is pretty good sized! Thank you so much for all the comments and kudos, we love getting feedback from you guys. 
> 
> Enjoy!
> 
> Clair and Jen

Rick read and reread the map until he could picture it in his mind, until he could navigate it as easily as anyone who had grown up within its stone walls. That was, assuming Morty had written it correctly. There were portions missing. Morty had admitted not knowing how many doors were in some hallways. The map contained question marks, blank rooms. Rick had memorized the missing pieces as being something that existed, as to expect the unknown. What he had was not a complete map of the castle. But it was a complete map to the locations he needed. 

Hours had passed before Rick pulled himself away from the map. He dressed in fitted black clothing, free of metal buckles or shiny leather, or anything else that might disturb the silence. He put on soft, suede shoes, much more like slippers than anything that would last on a walk outdoors. But they were exactly what one would need for one’s footsteps to remain unnoticed. 

Rick left the castle and transformed. The dragon crossed the cave and exited, finding the sun sitting low in the sky. His human sat on the edge of the cliff, his book and papers beside him.

“I’m leaving,” Rick announced. “I should be back before dawn tomorrow.” 

Startled out of his mental groove, Morty looked up toward the sky god’s true form with an air of surprise before relaxing almost instantly once he actually caught sight of the being looming over him.   
  
It took another embarrassingly long moment to actually register what the dragon said, and when he did, Morty tried to hide his disappointment at the knowledge that he'd be spending the night alone. He liked sleeping next to the lord of the castle and his own bed seemed woefully lackluster in comparison, despite the fact that it was far more than he'd ever had before.   
  
"You're going to the castle, right?" Morty asked, though he had no real reason to do so. "I hope that you find whatever you're looking for, Master."

“Yes, yes,” Rick muttered, glancing away.   
  
The teen opened his mouth to wish the older man safe passage only to be cut off by an incredibly loud rumble coming from his belly. Color flooded to Morty's cheeks and he looked horrified for a split second before simply offering the dragon a chuckle followed by a sheepish smile.

The dragon looked down at him, gold eyes narrowed. “Bloody hell, you humans never stop eating, do you? I suppose you'll starve if you have to rely on me forever.” The dragon tilted its mighty head, gesturing toward the trail that was off to the side, leading down the mountain.  “That's a good trail. It's wide and even. I'll allow you to go down to fish in the lake and hunt in the woods, provided you receive my permission before leaving each time.”

A spark of something bright and excited flared to life in Morty's gaze.   
  
He was being offered trust.   
  
They both knew that there wasn't anywhere he could run where the dragon wouldn't find him, but Morty knew it still took trust to even allow him passage away from the mountain and Morty was beside himself and eager to prove that it wasn't misplaced.    
  
"Of course, Master!" He exclaimed, quickly bouncing to his feet with a smile. "I'd never leave without your permission."   
  
Morty bowed at the waist for a lengthy moment and then straightened, asking, "Would you like me to have breakfast prepared upon your arrival, Master? It would be my pleasure to do so." 

“That’s unnecessary,” Rick said passively. He hesitated for a moment, looking down at the small human. He was fond of the boy, and felt inclined to say something about being safe, but kept it to himself. 

Instead he passed him by, spreading his wings and leaping off the edge. 

The dragon flew at an angle toward the kingdom until he had passed it. He descended in an unoccupied cornfield, shifted into his human form and passed through the rows until he’d reached a road. Not long after, a carriage came his way. He pulled up his hood to hide his pointed ears, and held a gold coin in the air. The carriage slowed to a stop, and Rick hitched a ride. 

The sun was setting, the busy marketplace growing quieter as people returned to the village. Rick lingered, scouting the guards at the main gate. No, the main gate was not the solution, but he already knew that. He purchased a large bottle of wine from one of the few remaining merchants and walked out. 

Rick strolled around the side of the castle. The sun was behind the mountain now, and it would soon become difficult for humans to see without torches. Rick held his wine bottle, waiting. 

It was dark. Rick moved through the shadows, his soft boots carrying him silently around the back of the castle. Here there was a rear entrance, where the help were accustomed to entering and exiting, where Morty, too, was accustomed to travelling through. There was no traffic at this hour, merely a pair of guards standing in torch light.

Rick stepped down the sloped ground nearby, made his way behind a large, dead bush and stooped. He gently blew a flame into the bush, a small flicker eating its way down the barren branch. 

That’s when Rick came out of hiding. He staggered forward, approaching the entrance.

“Who goes there?” one of the guards called out, as it was a strange time for anyone to be arriving. 

“Ah, it is I… Lord… uh… Lord Vance… the… Vance the Mighty!” He held up the bottle of wine, taking a good long drink and letting it drip down his chin. He swayed, taking a few clumsy steps closer.

The guard laughed shortly. “You’re no lord. Get out of here, old man.” Both of them visibly relaxed. Some old drunkard was no threat. 

Rick ignored them, keeping the hood pulled forward to conceal his eyes as he closed in. “I juss… I was-jus-lookin’ for the-BURRP the brothel. Heh, jus lookin’ for a good time, see?”

“This is the bloody royal palace, you fool.”

“Hah! Is it? And the royal palace doesn’t have any whores in it?”

“Not that you would benefit from- hey!”

The guard pointed out behind Rick, catching the attention of the other guard. “There’s a fire over there.”

“A torch?”

“No, in the bushes.”

Rick turned, feigning interest. Just then the fire flared up, sparks flying as it grew.

“How did that… I’m going to check that out,” one guard said to the other.

“S-Probably nothing,” Rick slurred.

He stood beside the remaining guard. Out of nowhere he spun around, acting if he had thought of something important. Wine sloshed from the bottle, spilling out over the front of the guard’s coat.

“Oh for fuck’s sake,” the young man barked, shoving Rick away. 

“Ohhh, sorry about that. Thhat’sgonnastain.”

“Get out of here before I run you through!”

Rick put up his hands, one still holding the bottle. “Allllright, old Vance has clearly worn out his welcome.” He turned to leave, walking a few yards until he could turn the corner. Only a moment later, the soggy guard turned and disappeared into the castle. Rick hurried back, slinking inside and taking the staircase to the right.

Rick was in, and he’d done it without killing the guards, as his human had wished. At least, he hadn’t killed anyone yet. 

Rick travelled up a narrow, spiral staircase, consumed in total darkness. Many castles in the West were built this way, almost windowless and non-navigable for humans without the aid of a torch. Although, Rick liked to imagine Morty sneaking around in the dark, having committed certain passages to memory with enough detail to travel without seeing. 

He visualized the hand-drawn map, moving through it as he moved through the halls. He could hear the far off sound of footsteps, and had plenty of time to conceal himself behind a pillar or around a corner as maids or footmen passed. 

Continuing on, he travelled into the area that Morty had not been able to remember with complete certainty. But he had memorized the size of these unknown spaces, and knew if he could just travel through them, he’d find familiar ground again. And he did. 

Finally, at last, he reached the library. It was not as large as his own in Castle Flame, but it was still vast, tall shelves of books lining the room and set in rows. Rick studied the book spines, reading the titles in the dark, the black pupils of his eyes expanding. He didn’t have to read them all, just a title or two could tell him where he shouldn't be looking. 

He moved quickly and quietly down the aisles, passing history and economics and poetry and religion. ‘Religion’ meant stories of his own family, some of which were probably true and others that were embellished beyond recognition. Yes, a dragon could burn a city to ashes. But no, dragons hadn't formed the mountains and rivers, nor did they control the weather or determine the success of the harvests. 

Rick moved on. He searched for an hour, and then two. And then four. Methodical in his search, he never grew tired or impatient. Finally, near the back of the library in a less cared for section, he found medicine. He searched each title and took what he needed, opening the books and flipping through the pages. Searching didn't take long. Discovering that there was nothing of use here didn't take long either. Body stiff with bitter disappointment, Rick moved on from the library.

* * *

Despite being given permission to leave, Morty sat on the edge of that cliff for a good, long while. He stared off into the distance toward the castle, imagining that he could see the dragon against the horizon. It’d been quite a while and the creature had landed by now, no doubt, but, even after he lost sight of him, Morty still imagined it. He pictured the sky god soaring through the skies, owning them, bending them to his will before eventually descending and becoming human once more. 

He tried to imagine his Master breaking into the castle. He wondered if the deity would use magic, wondered if he'd use force regardless of Morty's desire for him to refrain, wondered how he'd feel about what he saw inside. Though unsure of what exactly the dragon was after, beyond what seemed to be knowledge of some sort, Morty wondered if he'd take a couple things along the way, maybe take a quick trip to the treasure room perhaps. Or maybe he'd play mischievous and screw with the King in some way, moving things around or putting a little spell on this, that or the other. Or maybe he'd simply appear, gather what he needed, and leave

Morty hoped the creature would tell him. 

Maybe, upon his return, the dragon would spin a tale for him, telling him all about his stealth mission and all the things that went into it, good and bad. Morty chuckled at that. He doubted it. The dragon was rather secretive, after all, but maybe it'd humor him.

Shaking his head, the brunet finally gathered up his materials and made his way back into the cave just as the sun really started to set. He probably should've left much earlier but he didn't think it'd be much of an issue. Finding a lantern was simple -- even if finding a match was not. In the end he simply used one of the already lit torches within the castle to light the wick, which he probably should've started with considering how long lasting and resistant dragon's fire actually was. 

But, regardless, he was soon walking down the path and away from Castle Flame, lantern in hand and a number of materials stuffed in his pocket for easy fishing.

The walk was incredibly peaceful. 

Even in the dark, the trail seemed beautiful. The foliage was dense and ready to swallow him up should he wander off the path, the trees towering above him far older than Morty could fathom, and he wished he would've been clever enough to start his journey earlier. He imagined it would've looked breathtaking in the day, sunlight streaming through the leaves and painting everything as a sea of far-reaching green, flowers peeking out from alongside the trail. He hoped the dragon wouldn't mind him wandering down this way often, whether it was for food or merely for his own enjoyment.

Morty wasn't exactly sure how long he walked, but eventually he stepped off the trail and he saw the lake in the distance.

A wide smile split the boy's face and, after making a quick mark in a nearby tree to make sure he took the right path back, Morty started running toward the water. Normally he had to sneak. Normally, if he came with the intention of fishing, every single muscle in his body was tense and ready to spring into action and hide should somebody else make an appearance but he didn't have to do that now.

He had permission to be there. Permission from the highest authority in the land.  _ Nobody _ could stop him.

The thought had Morty laughing to the point of borderline hysteria but he didn't even try and stop himself, nor did he refrain from ripping off his shoes and splashing his feet in the water once he finally got to the shore. The water was enchanting beneath the moon, dark and deceptively still with bright light reflecting off its obsidian surface. It was as silent as any part of nature could possibly be, the quiet moment broken only by the chirp of crickets and the rustling movement of small animals in the brush.

Morty loved it and he quickly went about setting up his pole. It wasn't much, just a decently thick branch with string, a hook and a worm on the end, but he'd worked with less and, if worse came to worst, Morty had a couple other things he could try. In truth he was pretty lucky the lake housed fish that were so active at night.

Casting out the line and digging the end of his branch into the rocky shore, Morty plopped down beside his makeshift fishing pole with a content sigh and stared out at the water, watching it shift below the moonlight as he idly wondered what his Master was up to. 

The same moonlight flooded through the narrow castle windows in the apothecary’s study. The light was momentarily disturbed as a shadowy figure passed through it. Rick had finally found the room, and silently walked along as he searched for books. This area was dedicated to medicines and specimens, thousands of glass vials on shelves along the walls. They glittered in the moonlight, like eyes watching as Rick passed. 

Ahead of him he found a few rows of free-standing bookshelves. Pupils blown, he read the spines. There were endless books on homeopathy, some erroneous volumes on alchemy, and yes… disease. There were books cataloguing sickness, historical books on when the illnesses had hit, and books on cures. Rick grabbed a few of each with trembling fingers. With no nearby table, he knelt on the cold stone floor and began to flip through them, pausing whenever he thought he might have found something relevant. And eventually, he did find something. He stopped, reading the passage over and over.

‘ _...pneuwarfaris (new-war-fur-is)… wherein unexplained bruises appear around the victim’s throat and rib cage.... fatigue, irritability, soreness in the joints… within a fortnight, victims experience hemophilia… begin to bleed from the eyes, nose, and mouth, often from beneath the fingernails… new blood flows from old scars... from wounds without ceasing… thirst cannot be quenched… deliria... victim will suffocate from blood in the lungs until dead… living are encouraged to burn the deceased… _ ’

“Pneuwarfaris…” Rick murmured. His insides ached, a pain in his chest that made it difficult to breathe. He leaned against the bookshelf, paralyzed in his agony. He had finally found it, a solid, written truth in the plague that had destroyed his family. 

Rick pushed himself to continue. He read about the origin, a shallow grave dug for hanged criminals in the East, where serpents had wriggled beneath the soil, communed with the dead and resurfaced bearing a curse. Those bitten by the serpents had begun to bleed. The living whose skin touched the blood of the dying would spread the curse until all in the land were dead. It had happened four times before reaching the Jade Kingdom, which had also been wiped out completely.

For a moment, Rick’s repressed memory pushed itself forward. He remembered standing in the palace hall inside the Jade Cavern, beside one of the hosts. In front of them were a row of bodies along the floor, silk sheets concealing them from view. Still, his family’s blood soaked through the sheets and crept along the grout between the enamel tiles beneath them. He remembered hearing his host sniffle, wiping the dripping blood from his nose. 

“Your Holy Grace?!” 

Rick was abruptly woken from his memory, whirling around to see an elderly apothecary standing in the doorway with a candle. Rick flew to his feet, crossing the room in a few strides before he grabbed the old man by the throat. He yelped, dropping his candle which went out with a clatter. 

“What did you see?” Rick hissed.

“I… I s-s-saw you kneeling there… I’m so sorry, your Holy Grace, please have mercy! I don’t know… didn’t see anything! Forgive me for disturbing you, I did not expect to find a… a…” 

Rick loosened his grip on the man, panic still pumping through his veins. “You won’t speak of this.”

“I w-would never.”

“Go straight to your bed.”

“I will, right away, your Holy Grace!”

He released the old man, still feeling tense. In another time he would have killed the man. He returned to the books and reshelved them. From there he went to one of the windows and twisted sideways to pass through it. A short climb to the roof and he spread his cape into wings, transforming and taking off into the night. 

* * *

Even though he knew that nothing terrible would befall him if he was caught fishing in the lake by a guard or someone in service to the castle, Morty had an entire lifetime of paranoia working against him. It was for that perfectly understandable reason that, at the first sign of movement on the other side of the brush, Morty felt adrenaline jolt through his system. In seconds he was jumping up and ripping his line out of the water, rushing into the bushes as fast and quietly as he could to try to find a good place to take cover before he could be caught red handed by the watchman.

As he was in the process of making his escape, though, Morty caught wind of a couple hushed voices off to the side. They were soft, barely noticeable if he hadn't been straining to hear his would-be peruser. Even though he hadn't seen who was there yet, the teen was almost positive there were only two. 

The voices were incredibly familiar. He was certain he'd heard them before, but that wasn't very impressive or even helpful if he was being honest with himself. It was a small village and he'd known just about everyone there from the time he was born, it made sense that he would've heard them before. Still, just because they were from the same village, and most likely not a guard, didn't make them less of a potential threat. The guards were an unpleasant obstacle, one that was more than happy to hand out fines in the name of the King that no villager had a hope of paying off. Which, in and of itself, was rather cruel, but that was nothing compared to the more serious threat of professional poachers that didn't want their faces to be seen. Or remembered.

Morty shivered and tiptoed just a little closer to where the voices were coming from, desperate to figure out who was over there. The annoyance at not being able to place them lingered right on the tip of his tongue, bothering the brunet in a niggling, I've-definitely-heard-that-person-before sort of way, but he still wasn't willing to reveal himself. No matter how badly he wanted to see another friendly face from back home. 

It wasn't until one of them slipped up, speaking a little louder than they had before, that Morty suddenly realized exactly who was on the other side of the foliage.

_ "Pip!" _ Morty hissed, his heart pounding wildly inside his chest when the two other voices went completely silent.

Morty waited a beat before risking his luck and trying again.

_ "Pip, is that you?" _

There was another beat of silence and Morty was beginning to think he'd fucked up rather badly before the boy he'd rightfully assumed to be Pip suddenly hissed back, "Morty?!" in an incredulous tone.

A huge smile broke across Morty's face and he immediately rushed forward, pushing through the brush, trying to find his friends.

The brunet nearly ran chest first into a knife when he suddenly broke through the last of the branches keeping them hidden from view and found Pip -- along with another boy from the village -- standing there looking terrified with knives at the ready to defend themselves against potential danger. Morty yelped as he caught that first glint of silver and the brunet skidded to a rough halt, groaning painfully as he toppled over and landed on his rear-end.

It was better than a knife in the chest, he was sure, but Morty definitely wouldn't have called it pleasant.

Even still, the feeling was entirely worth it when he looked up and caught sight of a slack-jawed Pip just standing there, staring at him like he couldn't believe the other was real. Though, if he were being honest, Morty would've fully expected himself to be dragon meat by now if he'd been one of the villagers.

Pip didn't stay stunned for much longer. In a fraction of a second the other boy was sheathing his weapon and reaching out to haul Morty off the ground and into an extremely tight hug. One that Morty returned tenfold. It'd only been a few days but he'd still never expected to see his friend again. They weren't even the best of friends, just boys that illegally went to the lake together sometimes or ended up working in the same part of the village, but at that moment, Morty couldn't have been happier to see him.

"We thought you were dead!" The other boy -- who Morty quickly realized was Pip's brother, Mark, said from behind them. 

Pip pulled away from their hug, obviously just as curiously surprised as his brother as he looked Morty up and down with wide eyes. 

"Yeah! How did you escape?" 

Both boys were looking at him with wide eyes, their eagerness to hear some death defying tale perceptible even in the dark. Morty was sorely tempted to spin a heroic tale for their benefit, laying out some ridiculous story where he tricked the dragon and escaped with nothing but the aid of his own quick thinking, but Morty refrained. He didn't think the sky god would appreciate that at all. 

Weaving a tale of escape also implied that he actually  _ wanted _ to leave. Not to mention the fact that, as it stood, Morty didn't believe that he could actually outsmart the dragon enough to successfully escape. He'd tried deceiving the god right from the beginning, lying about his lineage as best as he could, trying not to reveal that he could read or write, and those lies had fallen apart in less than a week. Even if he'd managed to escape, even if he wanted to, Morty knew the dragon would find him. 

The teen shook his head, both for himself and the two boys waiting impatiently for an answer. 

"I didn't escape. The dragon gave me permission to come to the lake."

Two sets of eyes went wide as saucers and Morty quickly decided that the truth was far more entertaining to witness than any lie he could've come up with. 

"It let you?" Mark whispered, his voice terrified and yet still heavy with so much awe. 

"He." Morty corrected, "He let me."

Silence settle over their little trio for a long moment before Pip finally gathered the courage to ask what they were both wondering. 

"But why?" 

Morty fell into an easy ramble about convenience, making mention of the gigantic prey the dragon was more fond of catching and how dragons didn't need to eat nearly as often as humans. What he didn't say, however, was that he had a feeling the dragon was starting to trust him. At the very least he trusted Morty not to run off, but that seemed like far too intimate a thing to admit to. 

Even among friends. 

However, as they continued to talk, Morty started to feel more and more uncomfortable. At first they were just curious about him and where he'd been, about the vast amounts of treasure they'd grown up hearing wild stories about and whether or not there was actually any sort of living quarters up there, but soon those questions started to turn more towards the dragon itself than anything the dragon  _ possessed _ . It started with them wondering if the dragon could do magic, which Morty hesitantly answered, and then about if it stayed more in its dragon form or the human form they saw at the square, and at that point, Morty became downright uneasy. 

He didn't know why but, for whatever reason, Morty didn't want to tell Mark and Pip about the dragon. He didn't want them to know dragons slept, didn't want them to know that they got tired after they ate and that they had the ability to warm water with their scales. Morty himself didn't know much about the dragon but he didn't want them to know either and, though he'd started off telling the truth, Morty soon found himself telling a bold faced lie. 

"I uh, I actually can't talk about that stuff."

They looked confused. 

"Huh? Why not?" 

Morty swallowed, his stomach twisting into knots as he said, "The dragon put a spell on me. It -- well, it makes it so I can't tell a-a-anyone about him or anything."

Mark and Pip looked at him for a long moment without saying anything, maybe a little too long, and Morty started to shift where he stood. He could almost see them wondering what other spells the dragon might've put on him and the thought, though stemmed from a lie, made him more uncomfortable than he would've liked to admit. 

"What about the village?" He asked, shamelessly using the question as a means to push past the awkward silence they'd fallen into. 

It worked. Mark snapped out of it first and offered a lazy shrug. 

"Oh.. y'know. Kinda the same and kinda not. Ev'ryons been talkin' about ya and what happened."

Morty's brows pulled together. 

"What do they say?" 

Mark looked apprehensive at the question and, sensing his brother's unease, Pip spoke up in his stead. 

"They think you're dead, mate."

"Oh."

Morty didn't blame them for thinking that. He'd been right there alongside them until the dragon made it clear that he had other intentions. 

"I guess that's fair."

Obviously mistaking his acceptance as something else, Mark jumped back in and said, "Everyone thinks it's real shady, what the King did. The elders say it was a mistake."

"A mistake?" He asked. 

Mark lowered his voice. "Tricking the dragon."

Oh. Yeah, Morty could see that too. His host hadn't made mention of it since the truth was revealed on the mountain side, and he hadn't seemed especially angry since, but Morty had a feeling that the sky god wouldn't be letting the affront slip by unnoticed. There would be retribution, Morty was sure, and he only prayed that the dragon saw fit to punish the King and the King alone rather than the entire village. 

"Your parents miss you."

Pip had his immediate attention and Morty didn't even realize he'd reached out for the other boy until he was grabbing Pip's upper arm and staring at him like a man half starved. 

"What about them?" He demanded. 

Pip yelped and tried to pull his arm away, to no avail, before Morty realized what he'd done and released his friend with an apologetic look. Pip didn't seem impressed as he rubbed his arm, but apparently he wasn't that upset about it because a second later he was rambling on once again. 

"Just the usual, mate. I mean, not  _ usual,  _ but.. They're okay, I guess? Your ma won't work at the castle anymore, I guess. That what Shelly said. And your dad is trying to pick up the slack, I guess. Even Summer is helping out with Amelia and the chickens."

Morty froze. 

His mom wasn't working? His sister  _ was _ working? His dad was  _ trying to pick up the slack? _

A panic the likes of which he'd never felt before suddenly enveloped Morty whole, swallowing him down and turning his heart to ice inside his chest. That wasn't how it was supposed to be. His parents were supposed to be some of the richest people in the village by now. His mother shouldn't have had to work anyway. His dad should be relaxing for once and not trying to bring in gold. His sister was supposed to have a childhood!  _ It was all wrong _ .

"Hey, Morty," Mark said, his voice far away and partially drowned out by the blood rushing through his ears. "You okay?" 

"I have to go.”

The others protested loudly but Morty ignored them completely, pushing through the brush without any of the finesse he's possessed before. Everything was hitting him in the face, every bush in his way, every root trying to trip him, but Morty's hysteria pushed him forward and none of that had the power to stop him. Mark and Pip tried to follow, Morty could at least tell that, but the moment he set foot on the mountain, officially moving into dragon territory, they both stopped and watched helplessly from the base of the path as Morty raced up the mountain, trying not to fall apart with every step. 

Meanwhile, the dragon drifted through the air, wings pumping now and then to keep him afloat. He reached the border of the mountain and began to ascend, only to pause when he picked up a familiar scent. His boy was somewhere down below. He began to look, the early morning darkness doing little to get in his way. Soon he caught movement, a tiny spot running and carrying a light. He descended in a wide spiral, letting out a mild roar to signal his presence.

He watched as Morty stumbled forward, dropping the lantern. The flame flickered and came to life again. Rick landed not far from him, stepping forward as Morty got to his feet. 

“What’s this? Hurrying home when you haven’t caught any fish?” He blinked, his golden eyes narrowing as he leaned downward. The boy was panting, heart pounding away. He was distraught. Rick shifted into human form.  “What is it? What’s happened?”

Morty had barely managed to catch his breath after having it startled from his lungs by the dragon's sudden appearance when it was stolen from him once more. He couldn't imagine feeling more relieved to see the sky god than he did in that moment.

"My Lord!" He cried, coming forward until he was right on the edge of being in the older man's personal space, the fallen lantern entirely forgotten.

The teen reached out in a panic and grabbed the edge of the dragon's cloak, entirely unaware of the sheer level of disrespect and potential offense that could be taken as he looked up at his Master with the sort of frantic desperation he'd so rarely felt in his life.

“I saw some people down at the lake! People from the village! They were friends of mine a-and we were talking and they.. They told me..”

Morty paused in his rambling, clenching his fist in the soft fabric of the dragon's cloak as the implication of those words down by the lake hit him all over again, the idea of his parents being short handed and even more impoverished than before bringing hot tears to his eyes. 

“They said my parents were in trouble,” Morty choked out, the tears spilling over and leaving tracks down his cheeks as he actually said it out loud rather than just thinking about it in a panic, his distress rapidly building. By the time Morty actually spoke up again, his words were strangled and almost impossible to understand. “They're poor a-a-and just -- and just barely scraping -- scraping by and that's not how it was supposed to -- to be!”

Rick’s body tensed at the sight of Morty in such pain. He could have, and probably should have, held him, but instead he simply stood there as the boy hung on his clothes. 

“It was... my understanding that they have always been impoverished. But I take it circumstances were supposed to have changed somehow? Is that right?”

Devastated and hurt, Morty nodded through his hiccuped out sobs and stepped closer to the dragon. 

It was inappropriate,  _ so inappropriate, _ and far below his social station, but Morty desperately needed comfort. Even basic logic didn't stop him from seeking closeness and pressing his forehead to the older man's breast with an emotionally choked out sound.

"They weren't supposed t-t-to -- to be poor. The King, he -- he promised. He  _ said...!" _

The last of Morty's walls broke down with the truth hanging from the tip of his tongue and suddenly Morty was looking up at the deity and giving up the last of his purposefully kept secrets.

"He said all I had to do was pretend." Morty said, quiet and surprisingly calm even though his tone was nothing short of overwhelmingly crushed. "A-all I had to do was be his son so his heirs could live a-a-and he said my family would be safe. He said that -- that they'd never be without again a-and that they wouldn't starve without me there to work.”

Rick looked off into the distance, at the faint light appearing on the horizon. He touched the back of Morty’s head, gently stroking his fingers through his hair. He could have done more, could have wrapped his arms around him, but he didn’t. 

Rick was too angry, with thoughts of the King making a fool of him at the expense of his child, bastard or otherwise. And now, discovering that the King had not held true to a simple promise? 

“I would like to pay your family a visit, and witness the King’s negligence with my own eyes.”

He glanced down only for a moment to see Morty’s wide, watery eyes, before he shifted into dragon form. He didn’t wait before reaching for him, wrapping his claws around the human and lifting them up to the skies.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Back again and we brought chapter 8 along with us! You guys have left so many great comments about them going back to the village and we can't wait to show you what happens next.

Morty spent the majority of their flight in much the same manner that he did when he was taken _from_ the village: utterly terrified of what awaited him at their destination.   
  
He wished he could've been paying attention to something else, _anything else,_ but Morty couldn't stop thinking about what waited for them in the village. What if Pip and Mark were wrong? What if they got there and his family was fine, maybe _more_ than fine, and Morty was forced to recognize that he'd leapt without looking? Would the dragon be angry if he was wrong? Would he be punished for accidentally lying and making a rather big mountain out of a molehill if it turned out that the King _did_ abide by his promise?   
  
And, on the other side of that terrifying coin, what if he _wasn't wrong?_   
  
What if, when they arrived, Morty was met with proof of the King's deceit? What was he supposed to do then? How could he just up and leave with the dragon, knowing his family would starve without him there to help? Would the dragon really be so cruel as to expect him to return to the mountain, to luxury and food and warm water, when his family was starving back in the village?   
  
And what of the King? Would it matter to the dragon that the monarch had deceived a human the way he'd deceived a deity?   
  
Endless questions circled the inside of Morty's skull, each one of them more alarming than the last, and it left the teen unable to enjoy the novelty of flight. It left him ignorant to the beauty below, to the trees in the rising sun and the sky streaked with orange. All he could think about was his family and whatever disaster awaited them upon their landing.   
  
A startled scream from below eventually wrenched Morty from the unpleasant loop of his thoughts and, when he peeked his head from the dragon's mighty talons and looked down, he realized they were already there.

 _They were in Thais._   
  
The sight of the familiar village at the break of dawn, bustling with life, made Morty's heart constrict inside his chest and he wished he were seeing it under better circumstances. He wished the villagers weren't crying out in alarm -- probably afraid that the King's treachery had been discovered and that the dragon was returning to exact revenge -- and that he wasn't dreading the sight of his parents. He wished he was returning to visit of his own accord and that he didn't feel like he'd just had his ribcage stomped in by an ornery horse.   
  
Morty covered his face as the dragon started to descend into the heart of town. Dirt, leaves, and hay danced around them in abundance as the creature’s wings stirred up the wind and Morty wondered if he would've found the sight awe-inspiring if he hadn't been so distraught.   
  
The dragon's scaly claws opened a few seconds after they touched down and Morty stepped out on shaky legs, feeling his heart race as the early rising villagers started to group together and whisper amongst themselves, each with a wary eye on the beast at his back. In a way it reminded him of when he'd been offered, when the crowd was waiting for the dragon, chattering and staring up at him while the King of Thais stood tall and proud behind him.   
  
If Morty had to choose, he would've said that the King was far more of a monster than the dragon.   
  
That thought brought Morty right back to the forefront of why they were there and suddenly he was stumbling away from his companion, racing forward and through the break in the gathered crowd with an unshakable focus. He didn't have to go far. Most of the village consisted of a handful of small houses surrounding a shared well, and the dirt path that wound through town. His family, among the thirty or so other families that also dwelled in the village, lived in a group just beyond where they'd landed. He was able to see the houses he'd grown up around the moment he broke through the crowd and, upon laying eyes on his childhood home, Morty fell to his knees with a choked, utterly devastated sound.   
  
It was bare. Just as it'd been when he left.   
  
Pip and Mark weren't lying.   
  
The small, gated fence on the far side of his parents home was empty save for a single hen they'd kept for eggs. The roof was still falling apart, the side of the house green with moss and splotches of mold. Morty’s heart broke as he took it all in.   
  
The King had lied. His family wasn't taken care of. They weren't fine without him. They were as poor as they'd ever been, maybe even more so now that he wasn’t there to help, and the knowledge that he might never have known, that he might've gone right on living in luxury while his family starved to death in the coming winter, pulled an anguished sound from Morty's throat. One that nobody around him seemed to understand.

Rick walked up to Morty, standing beside him as he looked at the house. It was more of a hovel than a house, plaster crumbling between timber beams. Could this really be where Morty had lived? He’d imagined somewhere pitiful, but here? This was squalor. He studied the building, listening to Morty cry from where he knelt in the dirt.

“Get up,” Rick said, quietly enough for only Morty to hear. He didn’t look at him as he pushed open the gate, knowing Morty was following from the sound of his shaky breaths.

Rick opened the door and walked inside, affronted by the damp, stale air and the musty smell of mold growth. It was quiet and unoccupied. Dust floated through the light from the few, small windows, illuminating the house enough to see. Glancing upward, Rick also noticed the light from the roof in places where the straw and water reeds were falling through the support beams. But the house was clearly not abandoned. The cracked, stone floor looked as if it had been recently swept.

If not for his attachment to Morty, Rick would have fled from this dismal place and forced it out of his mind. But he was standing in a room where _his_ human had likely grown up, where he’d slept and taken his meals, what he'd come home to after every long day of work.

Morty walked past him, and Rick watched as he looked around his old home.

The teen was overwhelmed by what he was seeing.

Not only did it feel like two very real, very _separate_ , worlds were colliding as he stood in the place he'd grown up in with the dragon beside him, but, as he looked around, Morty couldn't help but to feel like a stranger. It'd only been a handful of days but, even still, things were already different.

His mother's hope chest was missing. The place where it'd sat at the foot of his parent's bed was barren and cold, the stone lighter and less grimy than the rest of the floor. Moving mindlessly, Morty approached the empty spot and knelt down, reaching out with a numb, shaking hand to touch his fingers to a carving he'd made in the bed's frame long before his sister was even born.

It was a dragon, at least it was supposed to be. The thing was crudely drawn, and his depiction was nowhere near as amazing as the real thing. Morty remembered taking a knife to the frame when he was younger, his mind filled with the tales the village elders shared that night as he dug the dull blade into wood. He remembered his mother screaming at him, trying to hide what he'd done by placing her chest there, but it hadn't been tall enough to cover it up. On the contrary, the chest had stood just tall enough to sit right below the dragon's hind legs and, even now, Morty could remember pretending it represented the edge of the mountain side where he now knew Castle Flame resided. Morty couldn't even count how many times he'd laid in front of that same chest, holding Summer close while his parents took the bed, whispering stories and poems and old myths about the dragons in her little ear while he stared at that carving.

But now the dragon was without it's ledge. The chest was gone and there was nothing to represent the mountain in its place, leaving the carving out in the open and more noticeable and out of place than ever, just like him.

Morty stood from where he'd been crouched down, looking at the frayed, threadbare blanket adorning his parents bed. He wondered if Summer slept with them again now that he was gone. Or did she sleep on the floor, cold and alone because he wasn't there to hold her or tell her stories before bed.

Turning away from the sight, as though it'd stop being painful if he could no longer see it, Morty made his way through the large room to stand beside the table. There were only three chairs now, the fourth moved and covered in what looked like dirty laundry, and Morty felt the pain rekindle itself. Was that what he was now too? His family's dirty laundry, hidden away and not talked about for fear of word reaching the dragon's ears?

Suddenly reminded of the other presence in the room, Morty looked to his godly companion and frowned as he watched the other take in his surroundings. The dragon's gaze was cold and detached, the expression on his face somewhat indifferent, and, for a brief moment, Morty looked around the room and tried to see what the dragon saw. No emotions, no sentiment, no memories, just the bare bones of the house.

Morty nearly flinched.

Furniture was scarce, everything of true value having been sold ages ago. The bed was bare, adorned by two shabby blankets and little else. The fire pit was full, the stone floor around it constantly dusty no matter how much his mother swept. There were a couple of small holes in the thatched roof, the walls were packed with wattle and daub rather than stone or brick, food dried and hanging out in the open, dishes hanging on the wall, the table and chairs made of simple wood, their one mirror cloudy with age and soot. It was nothing like Castle Flame, not even close, and Morty wondered if the dragon had ever been in something so lacking in his entire life.

Anger burned brightly behind his chest for a long moment but Morty knew it was misplaced. The idea of the sky god looking at his home, seeing nothing of his life, judging solely on appearance, rubbed him the wrong way, sure, but Morty knew he was mostly angry with the King. The dragon wasn't the true recipient of his ire, and the boy knew that.

Thoughts of his majesty, his supposed _father_ \-- Morty spat the words, even within his own mind -- had the brunet’s thoughts moving from pained to flat out bitter. He'd done exactly as he was told. More than he was told if he was being honest. He pretended to be the man's son, pretended to be royal, walking straight into the dragon's claws expecting to die, and it'd been worth _nothing_. His sacrifice had gained his family nothing, not food or gold or supplies. Nothing but suffering.

Morty clenched his fists.

The King wanted both of his children to live. It made sense, even to him, and Morty could admit that if there was a way for him to avoid sending one of his own future children to their deaths, he'd probably do it. Would he deceive a dragon for his own child? He liked to think he would.. And royal children were special. At least to those that ruled the kingdom. They would carry on the line, not to mention the monarchy, and, even though it was messed up, Morty could understand why the King wouldn't have wanted to give one of his own, carefully groomed children to the dragon to be devoured. Sending Morty also came with a supreme bonus. With him gone, the whispered rumors of the bastard he'd sired would no longer roam the village. His plaguing presence as a stain against the King's reputation would be gone.

And yet, it wasn't worth anything to him. Not even a small sack of gold.

"It'd be nothing to him." Morty whispered, his tight, angry voice full of more pain and resentment than he could allow himself to actually think about. "The King has so much gold. _So much_. And he's always getting more from the village and the fishermen. He wouldn't have even missed it."

Morty thought about the inside of the King's castle. He thought about vases made of gold and stone walls and lavish dinners every single night. He thought of silk robes and necklaces made of gems and expensive paintings adorning the walls. He thought of everything the King had, and everything he wasn't willing to give up.

Tears finally fell from where they'd been pooling in his eyes, staining his face with heat and salt water, and for the first time, Morty felt hatred in his heart.

"I just wanted my family to be okay. I was g-going to -- going to _die_ so they could eat... and my life wasn't worth a measly sack of gold.”

Rick, too, was angry with the King, for his betrayal of both of them, for his disrespect and his injustice. But, as Rick listened to his human weep, the boy’s words echoed in him. _The king had so much gold_. It was true, but it was nothing to the gold of Castle Flame, the ocean of treasure that was laid out in front of the castle, shimmering and seemingly unending.

Never had Rick thought of his gold for anything but the value of its beauty. His family’s wealth was a work of art. It was part of them. It had never been thought of in terms of what could be traded for anything else. Even the ancient castle itself had been built on the backs of worshippers.

But standing here in this fragile, shell of a dwelling, Rick realized that his wealth provided him a power that was different from brute strength and fear. And looking at his human, Rick wasn’t sure what he wouldn’t give to never have to see his face like this again. The sound of Morty’s wracked sobs had him gritting his teeth. He growled.

 _“Morty,”_ he said sharply. Rick wouldn’t look at him, but in the corner of his eye he saw the boy turn his way. “Stop crying. I’ve had enough of this and I’m going outside.”

Rick turned, his cape flaring as he walked out.

Morty froze. He stared at the vacated doorway with nothing short of shock adorning his slack-jawed face, his mind going a million miles per hour.

There was so much to focus on, too many things happening at once, and Morty didn't have a prayer of sorting through the multitude of complicated feelings competing for the right to devour his heart. Sadness, shock, betrayal, confusion, _elation_.

The deity had finally said his name. The sky god hadn't done so since the first time they met and, though it sent Morty's heart pounding, he had no idea what it meant. Nor the harsh words that followed alongside the dragon's hasty exit. Even if he hadn't been so numb over the betrayal of the King, Morty had a feeling he still wouldn't have been able to figure it out.

Were they leaving? Simple as that? Could the dragon really be so callous? Morty wasn't sure. They hadn't known each other long but Morty didn't want to believe the creature was so detached and uncaring that he'd demand they leave. Especially before Morty saw his parents. But.. There were no guarantees. He was a human, a _peasant._  That was just his life. And the dragon was.. Well. A dragon.

Morty wasn't really sure what he'd expected from the older man anyway.

The teen's shoulders drooped. It felt like the weight of the world was on his shoulders. The burden of his family. The weight of trying to do his best and make up for what his troublesome birth had robbed from them, it felt heavier and heavier with every step. All the while, the life he'd led up until now -- the one that made it seem so impossible to succeed even as his fingers bled in the dirt and his skin burned beneath the sun -- was making an effort to drag him down by his sinking heart instead. It wasn't surprising that the situation with the dragon had turned out to be an added weight to an already sinking spirit.

Heavy hearted and beyond lost, Morty followed the dragon's example and exited the house, stopping short with a startled gasp when he was suddenly faced with an immense crowd.

It seemed that nearly all of the villagers had arrived, save for the ones in the distant fields who were unaware. Rick walked out and faced the crowd as if they were guests in his own living room.

“Are there any carpenters among you?” Rick asked.

A weathered man in his late fifties stepped out of the crowd, respectfully removing his cap and holding it in his hands. He gave an awkward, untrained bow before facing the dragon. “I am, Your Grace, myself a-and my sons.”

“Mm. Tell me… If I wanted a structure built, what sort of people would I need? For say…  a fine little mansion of a thing?”

The carpenter blinked. “Well that would be me and my boys, Your Grace. But for a larger place I’d call on the loggers and carpenters to come from the next town. And you’d need a stone mason and his crew, and a blacksmith, and a glazier for the windows-”

“Right, right,” Rick said, growing bored with the details. “And are there… stonemasons and glaziers among you?”

Some of the men stepped forward, older men with sons that worked alongside them.

A crooked-standing man in his seventies bowed deeply. “Holy One, it would be my and my family’s honor to serve in your project. We’re a family of blacksmiths, you see, and I can make the finest doorknobs and interior trim just as any blacksmith who works for the royals. But it’s the crown that has use of the raw materials. And I can speak for the stonemasons and such. The King’s men will shoot any of us down on sight if they found us searching for raw materials ourselves.”

Rick pinched the bridge of his nose. “I imagine the crown accepts payment?”

“Well yes, but-”

“Whatever the cost, fit it in with your charges. You, woman,” Rick pointed at a round lady, most likely a baker’s wife. “Come here and hold out your apron.”

The woman hurried forward, her curved face turning red as she approached him. Rick pulled out his coin pouch, something that had always been somewhat of a fashion accessory, and poured the gold into her apron. He removed his rings and bracelet, carelessly dropping them in with the coins. He didn’t acknowledge the many gasps from villagers around them.

“Will that do to get all of you started with a few raw materials and whatnot? I can send a raven to retrieve the final bill later on. Yes, I intend to pay you.”

Rick had chosen to direct his question at the old blacksmith and the carpenter. The two men leaned in to look at the apron, and clearly had trouble arranging the expressions on their faces. The blacksmith finally spoke up, his voice a little tight.

“Th-That’s… plenty for completing a house, Holy One.”

“Hm. Well then…” He reached up, undoing the clasp to a gold necklace hanging around his neck. The necklace bore heavy, precious stones. He dropped it into the apron, surprising the woman. “That should get you started on building a little schoolhouse as well. I’ve heard that a good lot of you could use a refresher on the written word.”

Morty could scarcely believe what he was seeing, let alone what he was _hearing._

Building a house? Building a _school?_ What was _happening?_

Morty stared at the treasure weighing down Mrs. Bateman's apron, feeling his heart pounding against the back of his ribs as he tried to make sense of the situation. Despite being a bit rude at the end, even if what he said _was_ true, the dragon was doing something entirely selfless. He was stripping away his jewels and the gold adorning his body and for what? For some peasant? For the village? Why? It didn't benefit him, not in any way Morty could see or understand. In that moment the teen felt painfully human. Human and unable to comprehend the motivations of a dragon.

"Morty! Oh my gods, Morty!"

The teen's head snapped up as the familiar sound of that worried voice reached his ears. He'd heard it so often growing up, perhaps more than his fair share if he was being honest, but rather than feeling terrified of being caught red-handed doing something he shouldn't have been by his mother -- as he often had as a child -- Morty felt nothing short of ecstatic relief when his mom pushed through the crowd and came running towards him.

The worried blonde slammed into him a moment later, nearly driving them both to the ground as she hugged him, Somehow they remained standing and Morty held her as tightly as he could.

She was shaking, right on the verge of crying it seemed, and even though Morty had no desire to see his mom cry, he couldn't remember the last time he'd felt so loved. Especially by his mother. Their relationship was a complicated one, and that tension had continued to grow as he'd gotten older. Morty knew he probably reminded her of things she didn't want to think about, things she never talked about or acknowledged in any way, and he tried not to make that harder for her than it already was.

But now, with her clinging to him as she was, holding him like he'd been returned from the grave, Morty could feel her love for him. He could feel her grief, her fear that she'd lost a child, that he'd been eaten and that she'd never see him again, that he'd never return, as well as the relief that none of those things were true. Morty gave himself over to it, choking out a sob as he clung to her.

"I'm okay, I'm okay," he assured her, trying not to cry himself as she pulled away and started looking him over, touching his hair and his face.

"How are you here? Did you escape?" She asked, turning his head this way and that, as if she couldn't actually believe he was real. "Your father and I.. We -- we thought we'd never see you again. We thought.."

His mother turned her head, taking in her surroundings for the first time since she'd laid eyes on him, and Morty could tell the exact moment that she'd seen, and recognized, the dragon. There was fear in her widened gaze, as well as a tremble in her hand, and for whatever reason that bothered the teen.

Morty grabbed her hand and gave it a small squeeze to get her attention, trying not to feel upset about the way she jumped at his touch. Did she really fear the dragon so much?

"He brought me here." Morty said quietly, looking to the dragon with reverence in his gaze before looking back at his mom, trying to convey how little she had to fear.

Meanwhile, the villagers were beginning to ask Rick questions that he didn’t have answers to; the number of bedrooms, material preferences and so on. He would prefer to have Morty bombarded with these questions instead, as they related more to him than to Rick. Planning to throw him to the wolves, Rick looked around for his human.

But his eyes widened when he saw Morty standing with an unfamiliar woman with a striking family resemblance between them. Rick stepped away from the villagers and joined them, looking down at her with fascination. He glanced at Morty.

“Ah, this beautiful woman is undoubtedly your mother. Am I correct? You must introduce us at once.”

A whisper seemed to go through the crowd when the dragon called his mother beautiful and Morty smiled to himself. Even in shock, Morty was pleased by the sky god's charming nature. Even if he didn't particularly understand it. Still, he'd always found his mother beautiful as well and he was glad the deity graced her with a kind word and an eagerness to meet rather than dismissal.

"Right, of course." Morty replied, offering his companion a warm, overly sunny smile in exchange for his kindness. "This is my mother, Beth."

Morty turned to her, intending to make an introduction as well, but Morty faltered for a moment when he saw her face.

Her expression seemed pleasant enough, at least to anyone that didn't know her well, but Morty could see past it. She was _afraid._ He could see it in her eyes, that glassy sheen that made her look more politely distanced than anything, and there was a tension in her body that Morty knew well enough from his own experiences to label as discomfort.

A quietly cleared throat -- from the dragon or someone else, Morty wasn't sure -- brought the brunet back to the present and he also cleared his throat, momentarily looking away and trying not to be bothered by his mother's response to the man opposite of them.

"Right, sorry," he started again, "Mother, this is.."

Morty paused, his brows pulling together and his brain screeched to an unexpected halt as the teen fumbled his words, trying to come up with something to call the dragon. He'd never really thought about it before. The dragon was just.. Well, _the dragon._

Inside his mind he'd always referred to the man was 'the dragon' or 'the deity' or even 'the sky god.' Aloud, he'd always used 'Sir' or 'My Lord.' Always formal, always respectful, and he'd never questioned it. But now, trying to introduce him, Morty was forced to realize that he had _no idea_ what the dragon's name was. Or even if he had one. Morty was sure he did, he doubted a species as powerful and advanced as the sky gods would be without names but there was no telling if the name the dragon possessed would even be _pronounceable_ in the human tongue.

Morty's thoughts all seemed to be clambered over themselves, tumbling and pulling each rising thought down in rejection as he tried to come up with something tasteful and not so impersonal as anything he'd previously used.

However, Morty mentally drooped at his chosen terminology when he gave in and eventually said, "This is the Lord of Castle Flame.”

Rick rolled his eyes as Morty finally sputtered out an introduction.  “Excellent,” he said, putting one arm over Beth’s tense shoulder. He ushered the both of them forward, and then laced his fingers behind his back to address the crowd.

“Townsfolk, masons and such, I think we all know that your king is a great deceiver. He has risked the wrath of your deity with the fabrication of a third, _legitimate_ heir to the throne.”

The mood in the crowd transformed, curious faces shifting to fright. Relatives reached for their loved ones’ hands, women whispering fearfully, covering their open mouths. Rick’s gaze slid to the side, meeting with Morty’s. His human’s eyes were wide, face pale. Rick turned back to the crowd.

“I would be within my right to tear down his kingdom, the one that my family has overseen since your ancestors first settled. We were here when the land was nothing but trees and fairies. We watched as tribes cleared the land, introduced new livestock, and created a home for themselves. We taught them how to cook their meat and warm themselves through the cold seasons. We have taken humankind under our wings. So I ask myself, how could one man dare to _con_ a dragon? Naturally I was enraged to discover that your king had lied. And yet, how could any rage persist in the presence of such a graceful sacrifice?”

Rick felt a twinge of embarrassment at his honesty, again glancing over at Morty. The boy was swaying on his feet, in a way that was more concerning than it was endearing. Rick changed his tone, making haste and skipping to the end.

“Anyway, I digress. The house I ordered is for Lady Beth, the mother of my human. She will be answering further questions in regards to its construction. Good day.”

After the abrupt dismissal, he glanced down at Morty and asked, “Are you ready?”

Morty yawned, not quite comprehending the dragon's words as more and more exhaustion seemed to pour through him. He'd felt fine just a second ago, worried out of his mind, perhaps, but still fine. At least physically. Now, though, he felt anything but. He felt light-headed and heavy-limbed, like all the blood had abandoned his skull in favor of his arms and legs. When he started to sway once more, Morty took a step toward the sky god, completely missing the way his mom reached out for him only to drop her arms in surprise as he looked up at his godly companion through tired, half-lidded eyes.

The brunet smiled when he saw the dragon looking down at him, feeling his heart flutter inside his chest.

"Are we going home now?"

“We are,” Rick said, warming. He tensed when he looked up, catching Beth’s gaze. She looked as if she had seen something, but Rick wasn’t ready to see in himself whatever it was that she had.

He took Morty’s shoulder and steered him through the crowd. Farther away, he offered a stronger hand, holding him closer until they had the necessary space. Rick shifted, spreading his wings and taking to the skies with his human.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! It's been a while since we posted anything but this is a hell of a chapter. Hopefully it will make up for the wait, but we'll see lol Unfortunately, I've also got some bad news. After this chapter, this fic is officially going on hiatus for a while. As someone that also really loves fanfic, I know that can be a major bummer to hear but! Do not fret! Jen and I definitely aren't abandoning the work. We both really want to continue but life is getting in the way a little bit so we're taking a break. Finding time to write while also juggling newfound responsibilities of motherhood can be a tough challenge lol (Much love to Jen and the newest member of her little family!) Anyway! This is an extra good chapter, pinky promise! Enjoy it and please let us know what you think. 
> 
> Until next time!  
> Clair & Jen

Morty was slow to wake.

Despite having actually woken up no less than three times  — each one having been met with a grumbled out refusal to meet the day and a newfound greed for the warm blankets draped over his body  — Morty was still tired as hell by the time he finally opened his eyes. Drowsiness clogged up his brain like an overgrown cotton field and Morty groaned, rubbing his cheek against the pillow.   

Eventually though, the brunet opened his eyes and was immediately met with a close-up view of his companion’s arm. If he'd been more awake Morty might have made some sort of started noise but, as it was, the boy merely glanced up and calmly took in the sight of the dragon, sitting up beside him in bed, reading his book. He idly wondered what book the older man was reading and, without thought, reached up and ran his finger down the lettering of the book's spine.

"What time is it?" He asked quietly. 

“Oh, some time in the evening,” Rick said as he shut his book, setting it on the bedside table. He turned to Morty, gently ruffling the sleepy boy’s hair. “You slept all day. There’s a roasted boar waiting for you in the dining hall if you’re hungry.” 

The brunet's stomach grumbled at the mention of food but, even still, Morty declined. "Maybe in a while."

His companion seemed to accept the answer without incident, nodding agreeably in response, but he didn't look away. It seemed like he was waiting for something, maybe for the teen to speak up, but Morty didn't know what to say. Even having just woken up, there were already so many questions circling his mind, many of which he doubted the dragon would answer. 

The deity eventually shrugged, apparently tired of waiting for whatever it was he was waiting for, and made a move to return to his book. 

"Wait!" 

The dragon looked back down at him. Whether he was surprised by the brunet's outburst or not was anybody's guess, but Morty wasn't thinking of that in the face of his own shyness. 

"Can I  — I mean.. Can we talk about the village?" Morty asked, feeling like his heart was going to pound straight out of his chest as he fought to keep eye contact with the sky god. 

Rick blinked, not sure what Morty seemed so worked up over. “What about it?”

Morty blinked up at the older man for a long, drawn out moment, trying to figure out if he was being serious or not. When the dragon didn't say anything in response to his silence, Morty's brows pulled together in a perplexed look. 

"Why did you do that?" He expanded, "Why did you  — " Morty's gaze fell to the dragon's hands, so bare without the expensive rings and bracelets normally adorning them, and his confusion grew. "Why did you pay to have a house built for my family? A-and for the school house? You.. You gave them your things. I don't.. Understand." 

Rick shrugged. “I simply wanted to  —” he paused, thinking about what he wanted to say. He’d been about to say that he’d wanted to, ‘ _ take care of things for you _ ’. He swallowed back a wave of embarrassment and said, “...to build the house as compensation, as your prick-of-a-king couldn’t hold up his end of a bargain. As for the school… who  _ wouldn’t _ extinguish illiteracy if they could? It’s abhorrent.”

"But  _ why?" _ Morty persisted, growing frustrated with his inability to understand the dragon's motivations, regardless of what the deity was saying. "The King's word wasn't your own, you didn't have to —"

Morty suddenly fell quiet, looking up at the sky god with searching eyes. 

He didn't believe the dragon had decided to gift his family with a new home simply because the King chose not to honor his end of the bargain. Nor did he believe that the school house was bought and paid for with nothing but intellectual progress in mind. It just didn't seem right. The dragons had never done such a thing in the past, not that he'd ever heard, and Morty wanted to know what was going on. 

What could be gained by his actions? Morty doubted the dragon cared about the respect of the villagers. Though, he supposed, his actions could be seen by the King in quite a few different ways, none of them especially friendly, but if that was his goal, Morty had a feeling he would've said as much. Or maybe he wouldn't have, the boy really didn't know.

In the end, Morty realized that it didn't matter.

It didn't matter why the dragon did what he did. It didn't matter if it was for greed or honor or passive aggressive revenge. All that mattered was that he did it at all.

Mossy green eyes softened, their expression fond and so incredibly grateful as he looked up into the face of his god.

A god that'd never before seemed so  _ human. _

"Thank you." Morty said quietly, looking to the dragon for another quiet moment before taking a chance and moving closer to the other man.

The sky god's legs seemed to go on for miles, long and relaxed beneath the blankets, and Morty hummed as he snuggled up against them, laying his cheek on the other's thigh.

"Thank you for doing that. You didn't have to and I.." Morty paused, closing his eyes and trying not to think about whether or not the dragon was watching him. "I would have been miserable.. Knowing that I was here while my family was suffering."

For a brief moment he replayed the sight of the dragon giving up his possessions, removing his rings, emptying his pouch of gold,  _ dropping his necklace in Mrs. Bateman's apron.  _ Morty wasn't positive, but he had a feeling that the dragon had  _ no idea  _ how much his gold was worth in their village. Nor did he realize how much wealth he actually possessed.

"I can never repay you." He whispered. 

Rick felt a flutter in his stomach, and an unsettling feeling of vulnerability against the small human. 

“I implore you  _ never _ to repay me,” Rick said, his voice soft but serious. “Perhaps a structure or two seem like a grand gesture to you, but you can't forget the whole of my possessions, and how little I lose from it. One shouldn't be indebted for receiving an act of basic decency.” 

Rick gently peeled Morty away, giving himself enough room to slide down and join Morty beneath the covers. He let his body temperature rise a fraction, warming the space between them for the human’s comfort.

He looked at Morty seriously. “Can you promise never to feel indebted? I loathe the thought of it.” 

Warmth pooled in Morty's heart, spilling over slow and easy to drip down into his belly and spread throughout the rest of his body, sweet as honey. The dragon's body heat, his closeness, his  _ everything  _ had the teen utterly enthralled and it felt like the easiest, most natural thing in the world to snuggle up against him.

The scent of smoke washed over him anew. It was accompanied by something rich and musky this time rather than the clinging perfume of herbs from the sky god's lab, and Morty didn't even try to stop himself from leaning in just a little closer to breathe it in.

"It's hard not to," The brunet murmured, barely aware that he'd opened his mouth to speak. “You've changed my life without even trying." The teen glanced up toward the dragon's face, feeling his stomach twist sharply when his gaze met those breathtaking pools of molten gold. "But I'll try not to." He promised. "If it bothers you, I'll try not to think about things like that.”

“Yes, not to think of it would be good.”

Rick rolled onto his side to face Morty. Perhaps the day before, Rick would have grabbed him by the waist and pulled him in, self-indulging in the feeling of his small frame against Rick's, and the softness of his hair and skin. The dragon had never shied away from sharing space when he wanted to. But right now they were treading on strange ground, and he knew it wouldn't be right to demand anything if the human still felt that he owed him a debt. 

Rick opened his mouth to speak but hesitated, closing it again.

Curiosity sparkled to life in Morty's gaze and he offered the dragon a reassuring smile.

"What were you going to say?" 

But Rick hesitated, and said something else. “I was just thinking of Edward, the carpenter’s son, and what a fool he was to let go of you.” Rick flashed him a smile. 

The words didn't register immediately but Morty was only confused about them for a split second before his face exploded with color.

He had no memory of  _ ever  _ telling the dragon about Edward but it obviously knew. Perhaps the deity knew everything, or maybe he'd somehow ended up talking about it when he was drunk. Morty didn't know, but what he  _ did  _ know was that his face was absolutely  _ glowing. _

The teen stuttered out a couple meaningless words and tried not to look as embarrassed as he felt. Still, feeling embarrassed didn't stop his heart from fluttering desperately at those bold words.

Exhaling shakily, Morty reached out and wrapped his arm around the dragon's waist. It seemed casual, but Morty knew it wasn't. He could feel himself trembling with the adrenaline of doing something so risky and presumptuous, but he didn't pull back. Instead, Morty scooted himself a little closer and let out a shaky breath when their bodies touched.

"Do you really mean that?" 

With Morty gently pressing them together in a few innocent places, Rick took it as invitation enough to lay a hand on the boy's waist, fingers resting against the delicate silk of his shirt.

He leaned in and kissed Morty's flushed forehead, and returned to fondly looking at him. 

“Of course I mean it.”

The dragon's reassurance soothed Morty's nerves like a balm, and the teen couldn't help but smile. It was ridiculous, he knew. He was just a peasant after all, one human of many, truly nothing special, but Morty believed the dragon's words. They felt genuine, somehow, and that more than anything made Morty greedy for just a little more.

The brunet snuggled in closer against his companion and leaned in to nestle his face right up against the dragon's neck. He pressed his nose to the warm pocket where his neck met his shoulder, his eyes drooping once more as he was overwhelmed with the other's scent.

"I used to dream about your kind." Morty admitted, shivering a little as the dragon's warmth finally started to seep deeper into his body. "I never thought about how you might smell, though. It's.. wonderful.”

Rick felt his own face grow a little warm at the words, and the way Morty curled against him, head tucked beneath Rick's chin. Dragons were accustomed to flattery, but just now, coming from his human, it felt far more important.

“If I didn't know you better, I'd think you were being a terrible little flirt.”

The teen should've been embarrassed by that comment. He should've been even redder in the face than he already was, stuttering out denials and trying to explain, but all those typical responses fell to the wayside and, instead, Morty  _ laughed. _

The sound was muffled against the dragon's neck but Morty didn't really care. It felt good to laugh, freeing really, and Morty fell deeper into ease.

"All of my attempts at flirting are bound to be terrible." He teased. "You'll have to let me know if I get any better.”

Rick chuckled. “No. I mean ‘terrible’ as in  _ ‘effective’ _ .

_ Effective,  _ he thought, startled by the unexpected comment.

It seemed absurd, the idea that he could successfully flirt with a dragon, but Morty wanted it to be true. He wanted to know that he wasn't the only one and that the dragon wasn't unaffected by him; even if the teen couldn't possibly understand how that could be.

He hadn't realized it before, hadn't allowed himself to think about it or even entertain the idea of having anything other than what the dragon so generously gave, but now, forced away from thoughts of obligation or repayment  — thoughts that'd unconsciously kept him frozen in place for fear of them being true  — Morty wanted more from their interactions than he already had. 

So much more. 

The dragon didn't want to give him things or teach him in exchange for physical favors. He'd never really thought that was the case anyway, but the knowledge that the older man  _ loathed  _ the idea of Morty owing him, that he made a point to ask the teen not to think that way, it stole the unbeknownst weight from his shoulders, leaving the brunet free and able to move. 

Morty didn't really know  _ why _ the sky god wanted him around, but he did. He wanted Morty and Morty desperately wanted to be there. But it was a struggle. He didn't know what he wanted, didn't know what to  _ do, _ but he wanted  _ more. _

In a flash, Morty remembered what happened during their bath. He remembered the dragon's restraint, his courtesy, his  _ touch, _ and the teen made a decision.

"I'd like to kiss you here." Morty said, mirroring the deity's words back to him as he brushed the tip of his nose along his neck. "Is that okay? I won't be mad if you say no.”

Rick chuckled at the familiar words, although the sound was soft and breathy, betraying his surprise. He swallowed thickly. Lord, there was no hesitancy in the words, no sense of Morty giving in to something. His hand stroked gently up Morty's back, the fabric gathering beneath it.

“I'd like that.” And in case there was any chance Rick was wrong, he added, “If you're sure.”

Morty didn't say whether he was or wasn't sure. He didn't need to. 

The brunet responded with his actions, shy at first as he bridged the last bit of distance between them to press a soft, chaste kiss to the dragon's neck. His skin was warm beneath Morty's lips, warmer than any human he'd ever touched, but that didn't put him off in the slightest. If anything, it made Morty even  _ more _ excited.

He was kissing a  _ dragon,  _ a being with power and influence and  _ magic, _ one that his people believed helped create the world they knew, and it was  _ intoxicating. _ And that wasn't even taking into account what this man had done for him in particular. The dragon fed him, clothed him, made sure his family was taken care of, allowed him access to the outside world, comforted him. He'd let him live, even when he discovered that the humans lied to him.  _ The dragon wanted him. _

That thought alone dragged a soft, breathy sound from Morty's lips and his arm tightened around the other's waist. He squirmed in closer, suddenly not satisfied with the meager amounts of space between them, and he started pressing kisses to the dragon's throat in earnest, letting himself do exactly as he pleased for the first time in his life. 

Rick's resistance began to crumble beneath the weight of Morty’s eagerness. Unable to resist, Rick leaned down, gripping Morty's shoulder as he pulled the boy in for a savage kiss. A strong arm around Morty's waist pulled him up for an easier reach, as Rick moved his mouth against Morty’s impossibly soft and perfect lips. 

The kiss took Morty by complete surprise but the teen found himself melting into it almost immediately. 

It wasn't like last time, where he’d had time to overthink and remember all the reasons why he shouldn't be kissing the dragon. There was none of that now, only heat. Only pressure and passion he could taste against his tongue and the feeling of sheer  _ rightness _ that sunk into his very bones and made him feel more powerful than ever before as he submitted to it.

Morty surged forward, kissing back for all he was worth. It felt clumsy, almost messy, but the brunet didn't care. All he cared about was the feelings of the sky god's firm, experienced lips on his and the way it felt to reach out and card his fingers through the creature's hair. The strands were soft against his fingers, silky and just as tempting as last time, and Morty tightened his grip as he parted his lips for the dragon.

The feeling of fingers gripping his hair had Rick growling against Morty’s mouth, his member growing hard against his linen pants. He accepted the offer, tongue slipping into Morty’s wet mouth. God, what a perfect mouth, rounded tongue timidly playing with his own. 

Forgetting himself, Rick’s hand slipped down, gripping the side of Morty’s linen-clad hip, fingers ghosting along curve of his rear. His hand slid upward, pushing up the boy’s shirt and brushing over a nipple. Rick trusted Morty enough now to believe that he’d stop Rick if he needed to, and for the boy to know that it would be okay. So his hand settled there, playing with the peaked nub as they kissed. 

Morty whined into his companion's mouth as the dragon toyed with his nipple. He'd never been touched there, not by another person, and usually never by himself. The peak was sensitive, every brush of the dragon's fingers making him want to squirm, and Morty couldn't help but arch his back, effectively pushing his chest towards the other's touch.

It felt  _ good,  _ so good. So good that he didn't want to stop anytime soon, but Morty was overwhelmed. The teen's head was spinning  — the knowledge that he was making the dragon hard and wanting, the feeling of skin against skin where the Lord was touching him, the consuming heat of their mouths, the growing ache in his own groin  — it was far too much. 

But still he endured.

Even though it felt like the dragon's fire was about to leap forth and consume him, Morty continued to kiss his master, brushing his tongue shyly against the dragon's when the older man allowed it, lapping at the inside of his mouth like it held the cure to the creature's fire. 

Eventually though he needed to breathe and Morty pulled their mouths apart, gasping for breath. His eyes were wide, startled even, as he slowly reached up to touch his own lips in wonder, amazed at what had just happened.

Rick grinned, pleased and amused. His affections paused as the boy took a much-needed break, his heart fluttering a mile a minute under Rick's hand. 

A wide smile parted Morty's lips, lighting up his face more surely than if he'd stepped out into the sunlight.

“You kissed me.”

“And you kissed back,” Rick said, before his smile took on a teasing quality. “Although... now that I think of it, it's safe to say that you initiated in the first place.” 

Morty giggled at the light teasing and felt the warmth of his blush slowly start to spread at the dragon's words. 

The teen's gaze darted to the dragon's mouth when he thought about what he'd done, both initiating as well as following the other's lead, and Morty unconsciously captured his bottom lip between his teeth. He wanted more. Badly. He couldn't stop thinking about how those warm, talented lips felt against his own, kissing him, owning him, and Morty desperately wanted to ask for another kiss but he couldn't figure out how. It seemed out of place, somehow, to simply ask, and Morty didn't think he was brave enough to actually kiss the older man all on his own. One initiation was all the teen's anxious heart could take.

Thinking about the dragon's kiss had Morty licking his lips and, upon realizing that he'd been staring, the teen darted his gaze back up to the dragon's eyes and he tried not to look as inexperienced as he actually was. 

Rick didn’t like to assume. Maybe it was wishful thinking, but Morty looked as if he were begging to be kissed. Rick complied, kissing his mouth more gently than before, the slow movement of lips against another’s. Morty was responding, returning the kiss, and Rick ran his fingers through the boy’s soft curls. Rick thought that this might be even better than the roughness from before, being able to savor him slowly. 

Shifting closer, Rick found himself aware of the press of Morty’s arousal against him. He slid his hand down to the human’s rear, effortlessly pulling him so they were flush. He felt the intake of breath as Morty gasped, and the shaky exhale as Rick rocked forward so that Morty’s length ground up against his hip.

Rick whispered against his mouth. “Do you like that?”

The whimper that escaped Morty's lips felt like a confession, as well as an answer to the dragon's question, but he nodded anyway. Liking it was an understatement. He'd gotten so much more than he'd wanted, more than he'd ever allowed himself to  _ hope for,  _ and still, greedy as ever, Morty wanted more. He wanted the dragon's hands all over him, wanted those intoxicating lips and that wicked, tapered tongue. He wanted heat and passion and to hear the dragon's rumble, fed to him like ambrosia from the mouth of the gods themselves. 

“Please, Master, more,” He moaned, leaning in for another kiss. 

It felt like he was offering the dragon his pleas, offering them with eager lips and an inexperienced tongue and trembling hands that held onto the sky god for dear life. In a move that surprised even Morty, the teen hitched his leg over the dragon's hip and pulled himself closer, breaking their lips with a needy whine when he was immediately met with an almost overwhelming amount of friction. 

Rick groaned, pushing Morty onto his back and rolling on top of him. He pressed down, grinding his hip between Morty’s legs, savoring the way it made him whimper. Morty looked like candy, draped over the tousled sheets, his thin shirt beginning to cling to dampened skin. 

“Fuck…” he breathed. “You don’t know what it does to me, seeing you in need.” He kissed Morty’s neck, sucking and grazing his teeth over the delicate skin, and then murmuring into his ear. “I want to see you undone. So tell me more. Tell me what you want.”

The new position had Morty panting like a dog. 

The dragon was everywhere he wanted him to be, his hot, heavy weight pinning the brunet to the bed in a way Morty never realized he'd needed before now. He was enveloped, surrounded by his god, and all the teen could do was wrap his legs wantonly around the other's hips. Morty rocked against him as he tilted his head farther back to give the dragon more room to work, unconsciously offering both his trust as well as his submission to the man above. 

"Don't stop," Morty begged, squeezing the sky god's hips between his thighs with a needy whine. "K-keep going, Master. Please, j-just, just like this."

Lust burned through the teen's core, consuming everything in its path more surely than dragon's fire as he rutted against the Lord of the castle. If it hadn't felt so good, so  _ right, _ he wouldn't been afraid of it, terrified that it'd consume him too, but Morty wanted it. Desperately. 

Rick’s every sense was hyper-focused on the beautiful, writhing creature beneath him. Morty’s eyes were screwed shut, mouth open and panting as beads of perspiration slid down his skin. Most perfectly, Rick’s modest, innocent human was finally coming undone, freeing himself from the inflexible conventions of his upbringing. Indulging Morty was becoming a drug for him, and his every fiber was feeding off the boy’s pleasure.

On the brink of being swept away by the sensations pouring through his body, Morty reached for the only thing he could to keep him anchored; the one burning him to pieces. He made a frantic grab for the sky god, slipping his arm beneath the dragon's and reaching for the others’ back. But the arousal coursing through his veins made Morty bold. It made him feel powerful, like, for this brief instance in time, they were equals rather than master and servant. 

It was that feeling that gave Morty the courage to shove his hand under the back of the dragon's shirt, running his palm eagerly up his companion's back. His skin was soft and warm, the dragon's muscles shifting enticingly beneath his hand as the creature moved. But the moment Morty's fingers found smooth, hard scales instead of hot flesh, the brunet  _ jolted. _

Morty's hips jerked against the dragon's body and an obscene moan ripped itself from from between his lips as the full weight of the situation slammed into him. In seconds, Morty was abandoning the dragon's hair in favor of forcing another hand up the back of his shirt, both palms laying claim to as much scale-covered flesh as they possibly could while the teen pulled the dragon in with his legs, rocking against him much more aggressively. 

"Touch me," He gasped, his eyes going wide with surprise at his own words even as he kept speaking. "I want your hands, under my clothes,  _ please." _

“As you wish,” Rick murmured, sliding his hands up Morty’s body, pushing his shirt to his neck as he did so. Rick slid down again, nails gently raking delicate flesh. They were not claws now, but Rick had to consciously keep them from shifting that way. 

And yet, it was tempting to do so. He could simply stop trying, and his dragon features would emerge, brought on by the intoxicating sight of his human. Nor did it help to know how deeply it was turning Morty on. That much was clear from the way his thin fingers clung to Rick’s scales. 

Rick moved up to kiss Morty’s mouth. And as he pulled away, he palmed the boy’s erection through his pants. Morty sucked in a breath, green eyes wide as they met Rick’s. He smiled darkly in turn, wrapping his fingers around his length. The fabric was damp with the boy’s precum, and only grew wetter as Rick thumbed his tip through the material. 

But Rick only teased for a moment. He released Morty’s length and reached for the waistband, pulling it down to free him. Morty’s cock was flushed pink, a new swell of precum beading at the top in the open air. It was smooth and human, and Rick’s jaw clenched as he took hold of it. Gold eyes slid up to Morty’s face as he stroked him, firm but slowly. Morty’s lip was trembling.

“It’s okay, beautiful,” Rick purred. But things were far from okay, at least for Rick. Energy buzzed beneath his skin. The spines along his vertebrae twitched, shoulder blades reconfiguring beneath muscle and flesh. He’d never felt so out of control with a lover before, and it took everything in him to remain how he was. 

Wide eyed and more vulnerable than he'd ever been, Morty held the dragon's eyes, drinking in the sight of the deity's mirrored enjoyment, and let himself be overwhelmed by his touch. It was startling, how much he trusted the other man to do this to him, but he loved the way it made him feel. The pleasure was incredible, but it paled in comparison to knowing that the dragon's entire focus was on him, to touching and feeling and being allowed to enjoy this beautiful, inhuman man. 

Still, Morty couldn't help but to squirm beneath his partner's weight.

He was needy, straining toward every bit of sensation he could get, and Morty nearly sobbed when he rolled his hips up, pushing his length further into the dragon's hand with a shaky little sound. Glassy, lust blown eyes darted across the dragon's face, trying to memorize the hungry look in the other man's gaze, but Morty lost the connection unexpectedly when the dragon changed the rhythm of his strokes, moving faster and more efficiently. The newfound sensation had Morty keening. The sound was high and wanton and Morty threw his head back against the pillow as it escaped his lips, bucking his hips up into it and squeezing the dragon tightly between his trembling thighs. 

Morty started to lose it, too engulfed by the physical sensation to keep up with his own thoughts. The boy barely noticed when he slipped into the ancient tongue. It was what he’d been raised with, what he’d learned from the cradle long before he learned the common tongue, and now he was moaning and crying out for the sky god in it. He was pleading in the language provided to his people by the dragons centuries before he'd been born, his words strained and broken as he begged for more, and Morty was entirely oblivious to it. 

Rick swallowed back a groan as Morty pleaded for more. No human lover had ever dared to use their sacred language in the heat of passion, and Morty’s unknowing boldness had the dragon unravelling. His bones and muscles were surging with energy, shifting and beginning to change. He felt his spine slowly grow out into a dangerous, spade-tipped tail, poorly concealed by the sheets and the fabric of his pants. 

Rick was desperate for Morty not to see, to avoid any chance of overwhelming him and ruining this. Rick kissed at his neck, tilting Morty’s head upward in the process and further out of the line of sight of what was happening to him. He continued his motions, stroking the boy’s length and sliding his thumb around the wet tip as he brought him closer. 

Rick felt his scales multiplying, growing out of flesh and spreading farther down his arms and over his wrists. He felt the smooth plates spreading over his chest, down around his navel to join the ones beneath his waistband.

Rick responded to Morty in the old word, voice rough as he proclaimed that Morty was  _ his,  _ and that Morty’s pleasure was his to bestow. ‘Come for me,’ was not a phrase that existed in his language. So instead, he softly told Morty to ‘let go’. 

The dragon's command was one Morty couldn't possibly ignore.

He was already balancing on the point of a knife, ready to tip at any moment, but the dragon's insistence was too much. In seconds, the pleasure of release slammed through Morty like the most divine magic. It coursed through him, strong and unrelenting, and he had no control over the breathless cry of the word  _ ‘dragon’ _ that escaped his lips as he finally came, spilling across his stomach and the dragon's hand.

Morty collapsed to the bed then, panting with sweat soaked curls clinging to his forehead. He was swept away by the afterglow, floating in calm, easy bliss, his eyes half mast but unseeing, and he finally released the dragon's back, letting his arms fall to the cool sheets with a soft moan.

Rick watched him panting, and leaned in to kiss his jaw. As he did so, he felt that his canines had already grown into points in his mouth. Morty’s eyes drifted closed almost simultaneously with the long pair of horns that pushed out from Rick’s hair. 

It wasn’t that he really believed his boy would be frightened, but Rick was still desperate to cling to the simplicity of the moment. Shifting quickly from the bed, he took two steps to the fireplace and kicked the logs off of the metal grate. The fire went out, and the room was cloaked in the impenetrable darkness of a castle in a cavern. 

 


End file.
